Buddha and Stella and I have landed in Salt Lake City and already we're quite aware that we're not in Santa Cruz anymore. On the very first evening that we arrived, we arrived to a house that was less than 30 degrees. Not the outside temperature. The inside temperature. I had called that morning to check with the gas company that the gas had been turned on and was assured that it had. However, in Utah all this means is that the gas company has arrived at your house and has checked the gas meter so that they can bill you properly. They then leave you a yellow tag saying that your gas is now ready to be turned on by a qualified professional.
Of course I arrived in Utah without any proper tools for turning on gas at a gas line on the sidewalk outside my house in the middle of the night on a Friday evening. Who thinks to bring that particular tool with them?
So late Friday evening found me introducing myself to my new neighbor, M. Who lives a few doors down. And she welcomed me in with a warm hug, listened to my story of woe, and told me to sit down that she had a Christmas present for me! I sat in her warm living room and admired her really beautiful holiday tree while she disappeared into her basement mumbling something about how sorry she was that her son wasn't around right now to help me with this problem.
When she returned she was carrying two brand new crescent wrenches still in their packaging. She handed them to me and said, "Merry Christmas, welcome to the neighborhood!" They were the perfect present. Especially since they were exactly the right size for me to turn on the gas.
So I hugged her and thanked her profusely and wandered back to my house. Turned on the gas and the heat and eventually the house warmed up to 55 before I crawled into bed that night.
The next morning an Animal Control Officer appeared at my door. Uh oh. What had I done already? It turned out that there had actually been a dog bite that had occurred at this property prior to my arrival and he was here to investigate. I explained to him that I had just arrived the night before and that I was sure it wasn't Buddha or Stella. He was certain also since the bite had happened on Christmas Eve. But he needed to follow up because the guy ended up at the Emergency Room. I explained that my house has been sitting empty since December 1, so perhaps it was someone who was just hanging on my porch? He agreed. But then he did something no Animal Control officer has ever done for me before.
He sat down on my couch and registered my dogs. Right there. He said he could do it, might as well save me the hassle, and then I wouldn't risk getting a fine for not having them registered. And while he was doing it, he also chatted with me about which dog parks were really worth taking your dog to and when and who the best vets were in town. It was like Buddha and Stella were getting their own welcoming committee.
So I was already impressed with Utah's public servants for dogs, but then last night, I became just as impressed with their public servants for humans. I had a seizure last night. Which is pretty rare for me these days, but given all the stress of the last few months and the fact that I've been having panic attacks leading up to this big fat move, I'm not surprised that I actually finally did have a grand mal seizure.
The thing about seizures and me is that I become extremely disoriented. And last night found me wandering the streets of Salt Lake City in 7 degree weather in slippers and a t-shirt. That's all. That's perfectly acceptable attire for Santa Cruz. In SLC? Not so much. I eventually found myself a tad more coherent, but completely lost, at a Smith's grocery store about seven blocks from my house. Only I had no idea how I had gotten there or where exactly I was. So I picked up a pay phone and did what every child does in this situation. I called my mother. Collect.
Thank goodness for mothers whom you can call collect, huh? And whom you know will pick up the phone and accept the charges? Even if it is 3:00 a.m. at their house?
She called the SLC police. Who arrived with two squad cars while I was still on the phone with her. And they were superb. I mean really superb. They spoke to me like a human being. They were kind and courteous. They were loving, even. They found a blanket. They even got on the phone with my mother and chatted with her about all they were doing to take care of me. And they called the rescue squad because they were very concerned about my physical health and wanted to be certain I did not need to go to the emergency room. I elected not to go, so they both drove me home. And when I got here, they escorted me inside and checked my entire house for me, as well.
I had been extremely worried about Buddha and Stella. If I was at the grocery store, where were they? How had I gotten there without them?
But when we drove up to the house, there they were. Sitting patiently on the front steps waiting for me. I am not quite sure why they just allowed me to go wandering away into the darkness in my delirium, but I'm thankful that they did. And that they waited for me to return.
Good dogs.
And good public servants of the city of Salt Lake. I feel bad that I have already taken advantage of their services and I've been here just 48 hours. But you know what? If you're going to pick a city service to test, I suppose that's a good one to know about first hand.
My love, gratitude and thanks to each and every one of you who has wished me well and kept me sane along this very difficult journey. Every step has certainly been easier because of all of you.
