I was the first to start having some symptoms but Miss Trixie, ever the copycat, soon followed suit and we both were stretched out in bed like two big, old beached whales.
Thankfully the government in their ever-thoughtful way had sent me a COVID testing kit absolutely free. Of course, they are charging the cost of that to me and my kids and grandkids as part of the national debt, so the old adage “nothing is free” still holds true even in this case.
But at least I had the darned thing at home and didn't have to traipse out to town to find out how sick I was but could find out in the privacy of our own abode.
As you know, Miss Trixie is resourceful beyond compare. As soon as Ol’ Dutch became incapacitated she leaped to her feet and started cooking food enough for an army for the days ahead.
Her thinking was that if she got really sick and could not cook for me then I would not starve in the interim period of recuperation. Which is normally pretty good thinking but I do believe Ol’ Dutch could probably live off the land — or the lard, if you know what I mean as I have plenty of reserves.
But regardless we had chicken nuggets bagged and ready for the pestilence and famine days ahead and Miss Trixie could then relax and have her own walk with the sweats.
I have to tell you that she does come by preparing ahead honestly. One time her mother was to have surgery and so she went to her kitchen and wrangled up three coconut cream pies for Trixie's dad, in case she didn't make it home from the hospital.
And I guess that is thoughtful in a way but so unnecessary in Texas as any funeral is bound to be followed by a large potluck and with 600 of your closest friends bringing food, any widower should be set for a long time following said event.
And not only that, rest assured that the widows all come out of the woodwork and make sure that poor man has food and company galore in the days ahead. That is until one of them corrals him once again into the pen of perpetual nuptials.
But Ol’ Dutch, ever his caring and sympathetic self, didn't have the heart to point out to Miss Trixie all the selfless widows just waiting in the wings for her to pass so they could have a turn with Ol’ Dutch themselves. So, cook, she did.
But as luck would have it, Miss Trixie was able to rally at the last moment and seems to be on the road to recovery, cooking up a storm around the kitchen once again.
There was one good thing about having the big C and that was it gave Ol’ Dutch an excuse to do nothing. That's right. I mean more than my normal nothing excuse which is just because I am a man.
No, that positive line on the test kit gave me carte blanche permission for naps, recliner time, coffee, and just plain old bellyaching. You know? Man sick.
It appears we are on the way to recovery and thankful it was not worse as some people really are suffering from it. Thankful for all the prayers of many, the patience of Miss Trixie, and the ever-stoic nature of Ol’ Dutch himself in times of trouble.
Kevin Kirkpatrick and his Yorkie, Cooper, fish, hunt, ATV or hike daily. His email is [email protected] Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com.