Out My Window – Part 5

COVID

So it’s the first week of June, in the incredibly weird year of 2020.  The world is still in a global pandemic, though that seems to have been forgotten.  As of this morning, 108,062 Americans have died of COVID-19.  There’s an “app” for that, http://www.ncov2019.live.  A high school kid in the state of Washington wrote it, with accurate data for the states, nation and world.  It also has a “survival calculator”.  Put in your age range, your gender, and a couple of pre-existing conditions, and it will tell you what your likelihood of surviving COVID-19 is.  As a 63 year-old man with previous cardiac issues, it’s not a promising number that shows up in blood red – 54.08% chance of dying from COVID-19 if infected.

Here in Ohio the numbers are still scary, with 2,267 now dead from the disease.  Has it only been three months? 

Occupation

And it’s the second week of protests over the murder of George Floyd.  Protestors marched again all across the country last night.  They did the block around the State House in Columbus, and at our local Courthouse in Newark, Ohio as well.  There, the Sheriff’s deputies mingled with the crowd, talking and listening to the concerns.  As one deputy put it, “it was more of a community gathering than a protest”.  

And we are in the age of Donald Trump.  The President has ordered parts the 82^nd Airborne, the “American Division”, stationed around Washington, DC.  Those troops haven’t hit the capital streets yet, but they are ominously waiting near by.  The Secretary of Defense used the term “controlling the battle space” to describe American cities.  Even the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs “scouted” Washington DC in fatigues and boots, perhaps looking for the “high ground”.  Its like an old 1960’s black and white movie, Seven Days in May, except this time it’s the President who seems ready to militarize the nation instead of a cabal of generals.  I sure hope there’s a real-life Kirk Douglas character that will stand up for civilian control.

Gone Camping

Jenn and I and the dogs have gone camping.  We hoped it would be some escape from the steady torrent of ugly news.  But, even hear in Appalachian Ohio, cell signals get through loud and clear.  The world is in your pocket, or on the TV screen in the camper, or in the messages from friends in the protests.  You can’t get away.

But it is a strange contrast.  We’ve camped here before, and camping in a pandemic doesn’t feel like much has changed.  The camp store is only open a couple of times a week, and the worker has a face mask on.  But we aren’t particularly “social” campers anyway, so staying appropriately distant from the few others who have weekdays off in June isn’t difficult.  In the brief conversations we have, it’s about how the weather has been, and how well behaved our dogs are.  

Our Dogs

Our Yellow Lab, Atticus, is three.  All of a sudden, the wild crazy two year old Lab that we knew, hung onto, and loved, started to mellow.  He’s not barking at every other dog, not getting frenetic in the car and camper.  We knew it would happen, but it’s still kind of a shock.  But here he is, at seven in the morning, standing beside the picnic table as I pound on the computer, listening to the birds and feeling the gentle morning breeze.  If you ever met this wild man, you’d be shocked.  Who is this new guy, and where did our Atticus go?

Our older dog, Buddy, isn’t so sure about this camping thing.  Instead of just going out back to do what needs to be done, now it’s walks.  Camping trips are “Buddy boot camp”, with miles of long walks as Atticus pulls us on.  I think Buddy likes being out somewhere new, but he’s getting older and out of shape.  Sleeping in the camper is a good thing for him.

More Dogs

Dogs are a big part of our life, and it’s not just Atticus and Buddy.  There is a small group of dedicated people who go and find lost dogs, and Jenn’s becoming one of them.  The group she’s part of, Lost Pet Recovery (LPR), goes all over Ohio searching for lost dogs and cats.  It’s not like looking for a lost child, because the child wants to be found.  Lost dogs are terrified, of everything and everybody.  They won’t even come to their own families after a couple of days “out”.  In fact, chasing a lost dog is almost a guarantee that they will stay “lost”.

So it becomes a matter of spotting, tracking, and trapping.  It’s kind of amazing:  there are people in LPR who take calls and messages, people who chart maps of sightings, people who put up signs.  And then there are the trappers, who put large cage-like traps out at the most likely places, and set up mobile camera surveillance.  That’s what Jenn likes to do, find the spot where the dog likes to go, and bait a trap with McDonald cheeseburgers and chicken tenders.  Then wait, sometimes for days, and hope the dog takes the bait.  

It’s an all-consuming task.  There are traps going now, in Lancaster, in Wapakoneta, in Dayton and another down in Cincinnati.  The “happy endings” are awesome, but there’s lots of disappointment and sometimes tragedy as well.  A dog crossing I-75 got lucky and survived to be trapped.  One crossing State Route 16 didn’t.

Crisis

All of that comes in on the phone as well.

It’s Wednesday, and we’ll be back home on Friday.  There’s a protest downtown Saturday evening; I think we’ll go.  You can write about all of this, but sometimes you’ve got to get out and actually do something as well.  I’ve ordered new bandanas.  At least we’ll have stylish masks even if we’re not socially distanced.  

There is a question in this pivotal year of 2020:  How many crises can we take?  We haven’t even really gotten to the election yet.  We might have to go camping some more before this is all done.