There are no good songs about Connecticut

My husband is a master counselor. He can get at the nitty gritty of a problem, dismantling it until it rolls over in submission. Today, we took the dogs to the kennel. Our shot records from North Carolina did not have the dogs’ bordatella vaccines. We knew they were vaccinated because they were boarded in April at their own vet, and the vet would have let us know if one of the girls was due soon. We also asked before we left if the girls would be need any medical stuff during the summer and we were told no. Rather than giving up, Jon stayed with the lady reflecting her feelings and our predicament until she thought of a solution. The “What can we do?” approach.

She took our dogs with a disclaimer we signed that we would not sue her if the girls caught kennel cough. (Kennel cough isn’t fatal, can be treated with antibiotics, and all the other dogs at the kennel are vaccinated so there’s no real risk). This was a huge relief because we were leaving for Connecticut right after dropping them off and we had already paid for our hotel room. The place where they are staying is really nice and there are ducks, goats, and a horse, and other dogs, of course.

Tonight we’re at a Sheraton in Hartford, Conn. It’s breaking up the drive to NYC, and now we can really claim that we’ve been to Connecticut. It’s pretty here, from what little we’ve seen. It’s raining now, so we’ll probably hang out for a bit then venture out for dinner.