White Dog laid across my chest and sniffed my eyeballs. Then she ran off to tell Steve and the rest of the White Dog Army, "Holiday Weekend interruptus!"
I awoke with a pounding headache and rapidly vanishing voice. I was achy and my nose was stuffed. "Seems Michael's cold has caught up with me," I moaned as WD brought the pack rushing in to check on me.
The WDA immediately went into nursing mode. Everyone sniffed me and went out to the hallway to confer. I took the opportunity to blow through several tissues and cough my throat clear. "We heard that," Puff called.
When my health team returned, they had a plan. "Don't I get a vote?" I asked. "Nope. You never take care of yourself; you'll just ignore this and pretend all is fine," Quinn gently said and looked at Steve for reinforcement. Nuka wagged her agreement.
"We are going to make you some nice scratchy toast and bacon for breakfast. Then when I am at school, the White Dog Army will watch over you while you sleep LOTS and drink LOTS of water."
"But the opera tonight," I protested. "Is a no-go if you still sound like this. You do NOT want to be THAT person in the theater during the performance," YoYoMa woo'd. Oso came over and asked to be held.
I spent most of the day sleeping with WD at my shoulder and Puff staring intently at me. The rest of the Army arranged themselves around my chair to keep me safe and to be close with their healing energies. By the time Steve got home, it was clear that I was not going anywhere...except maybe to cuddle on the bed, to doze upright and watch TV with the WDA.
No three hour commute to and from Santa Fe. No tailgate picnic. No higher altitude with its thinner air. No Offenbach comedy (to be fair, not one of my favorites). Just a chance to cough when I needed to; to blow my nose at will; and to doze without feeling like an opera peasant. I was OK with that.