feverish

The mercury has been sitting between thirty and forty below since I got home from work on Sunday morning. My "beginnings of a nasty cold" turned into a full blown respiratory viral bomb and I have been in bed for the last two days. At the moment I am sitting on the couch with none other than Dottie, although I have a feeling I will be back upstairs in a bundle of blankets and tissues before long.

Peter, despite being in the middle of finals, has taken over 100% of dog care & chores (and has been at my beck and call as I wallow in a pile of cough syrup & self pity upstairs,) since walking outside in these temperatures with this bug sends me into an excruciating coughing fit that leaves me in tears. This summer, I read the book Yukon Alone about the 1998 Yukon Quest. It was Aliy Zirkle's (a mushing hero of mine) rookie year in that race, and the author details how she came down the the flu and fought through it for the first half of the 1000 mile trail, delirious with fever, camping out at forty below zero with her dogs, pushing on regardless. I dream of being that tough. For now, I am glad I have Peter to go out in the cold with food & a poop shovel for me, and I'm glad I have Dottie keeping the fever chills at bay on the couch instead of in a sleeping bag on the Yukon River.

ADDENDUM: After I posed this, I got up to get some water and go back to bed. By the time I made it to the stairs, Peter had taken over my Dottie-cuddling position on the couch.