"Honey, we don't have a horse, do we?" Dean and I were laying in bed, groggily engaging in the daily waiting game over who was going to get up and make the coffee.
"Nooo..."
"Okay. Good. So we don't have two grey kittens either?"
"Not the last time I checked the population," he replied.
"Good." I got up and reached for my bathrobe. I wanted coffee and was tired of the game.
"Why are you asking?"
"Because, when I first woke up, I was just sure I'd forgotten to feed the horse. I felt pretty awful until I remembered we didn't have one."
He rolled onto his side and reached for the TV remote. "And the kittens?"
"A dream, like the horse." I zipped up the bathrobe and started for the door. There had been another dream, but I couldn't recall it just then. Something about sunflowers and death and rainbow bass. It didn't matter, I decided.
"I guess you're probably not pregnant are you, Constance?" he called.
I laughed. "Did you dream that?"
"Yep."
"Not unless those little buggers of yours have figured out a way around a vasectomy and ten years of no cycles."
"Still . . . Could be fun to have a little one around."
"Only if he goes home with his parents at the end of the day."
He chuckled. The voice of a CNN news reporter filled the bedroom.
I was greeted in the hall by our real menagerie. Dishes were empty and bladders were full. Hungry, hungry, hungry... Out, out, out ... I opened doors and filled food dishes.
Morning chores complete, I went to the kitchen, ran the water, and measured the grounds, then to the living room to open a couple of windows and turn on a fan. The light on the answering machine was blinking "three" at me. I looked at the clock. Seven a.m. What was that about?
The first call had come at five a.m. according to the electronic voice. "Constance, this is Lynnette and I was wondering when you intended to come by and get this pillow you wanted me to cross stitch for your mother's birthday."
Ohhh. Lynnette. A dairy farmer's wife. If she had to be up milking at five a.m., then the rest of the world should be too. What pillow though? I didn't remember asking her to... Oh...wait. Yes, I had. I'd seen a cross-stitched picture of the grey kittens on the wall at her house and liked it. When I said so, she'd offered to make one like it for me. My Mom's birthday was coming up soon so it seemed like a good idea. We'd struck a deal. God. I'd forgotten all about it. So that's what the dream about the kittens came from. I was strangely relieved, amused at the tricks of the subconscious.
I pressed the button on the machine for the next message. A man's voice, cutting in and out... On a cell phone, probably from the other side of the mountain. Something about a truck hitting something and needing one of us to identify "the animal."
Damn. I rushed to the window. Counted the dogs playing tag in the back yard under the cedar. They were all there. Thought about all of the cats at the food dish. All accounted for. Then what the hell... Oh. Wait. The last message. Maybe it would be clearer.
It was the same voice. No cutting out this time... "Karen and Rod Bailey, this is Deputy Williams from Stone County Sheriff's department. I'm sorry to report that your horse wandered out into the road this morning and was hit by a truck. Fortunately, no one was hurt, but the horse was killed. Would you please call me on my cell phone at 555-322-1865 so we can discuss what you want to do about the remains. Again. I'm sorry."
It was someone else's bad news. I'd better call him back and tell him he'd called the wrong number. He answered on the second ring. I explained quickly, the words falling all over themselves into the phone. Not my horse. Didn't know the owner. He thanked me and apologized for the confusion.
I'd no sooner hung up than the phone rang again. No. I would have coffee before I dealt with any more crises, be they mine, or someone else's. Besides, it might be Lynnette and I didn't have my apology prepared yet...
The machine picked up. "Constance Sanderson? This is Doctor Cox's office. Your pregnancy results are in. Please give us a call. Thank you." Click.
Right first name. Wrong last name. Still, my hands shook a little as I poured the coffee. I'd call them after I'd collected myself.
The phone rang again. I retreated to the bedroom.
"Phone's ringing," Dean observed as I opened the door.
"Yep." I handed him his cup, concentrating on the last dream; something about sunflowers...
"So aren't you going answer it?"
"Nope. Wrong number." Death...
"How do you know?"
"Trust me." And rainbow bass...