May 17, 2020

If it weren’t for the fact that I’m not even sure of what day it is anymore, it would be hard to comprehend that this is the beginning of the 10th week of the new normal. Thank goodness we deliver Meals on Wheels every Wednesday; that gives me a reference point. Otherwise, everyday would be like Groundhog Day.

We haven’t left Bandera yet, but at least we moved the motorhome to a different spot within the RV park, and even that was kind of exciting since it hadn’t moved since November. Relocating to a space with some shade was an idea we’d been kicking around ever since the temps have been consistently in the 80’s and sometimes 90’s; but as is so often the case, it took an unfortunate event to prod us into action. Our neighbor’s dog bit me.

I’ve never been bitter by a dog, and it was a frightening experience! It was our neighbor’s, an aggressive canine that always went ballistic at the sight of another dog. When she was chained up outside, she’d clothesline herself lunging after any dog being walked past. Her name was Hunter, but I referred to her as Cujo.

On the day of the incident, I was puttering outside on the RV. It was now May, the virus’ curve had been flattened, and I was hopeful that we’d finally be leaving Texas any day. On that particular day I had removed our tire covers, cleaned them and was in the process of applying a protectant to the tires. My back was turned to our neighbor’s RV when I heard their door open. Cujo bounded out and in a heartbeat was planted right next to me.

Ever since I was a child, we’ve had pups as pets. I’m a dog-lover and generally unafraid of them, but 40-pound Cujo was different. There within reach, her eyes were fixed on me, and her rigid, muscular body was was extremely daunting. I looked at her and murmured “Hey, Hunter,” trying to sound friendly and composed. Inside though, I was dying; this dog was capable of eating me alive. Maybe she sensed that I was terrified, because before I knew what was happening, she bit my calf.

What Cujo’s owner was doing while this was transpiring I don’t know, but he had yet to come over and retrieve his animal. In a stern but subdued voice I appealed, “Please come and get your dog.” When he finally did and the coast was clear, I quickly retreated into the safety of our RV and filled in Dave on all the action he’d missed.

We reported the incident to the office, and the manager wanted to know if I wanted to have the marshall come down and press charges. It wasn’t serious enough to warrant that, I thought, but the dog’s owners needed to be aware that they need to keep their dog under control, so they were issued a warning that if it happens again, they’d have to vacate the RV park.

Since we’d committed to being here through the end of May, and it was only the 8th, we took that as our sign to move. Our new spot doesn’t have as much space nor the expansive view as the other, but we have plenty of shade and good neighbors, so the trade-off was worth it.

Bandera’s businesses have opened up and by the looks of Main Street, you’d never know there was a pandemic. Few people wear masks, and the city park just next door is packed on Saturdays and Sundays. Last weekend the city charged $5 a head admittance and netted $7,000. That’s a lot of people.

We haven’t eaten inside a restaurant since early March, but we have been supporting our local restaurants regularly by ordering take-out. One of our favorites is veteran-owned JM Artisan Bakery. The owner is retired Navy, and served as part of the Presidential Food Service Security at the White House, cooking for Presidents Clinton and Bush. To say that his delicacies are amazing is an understatement. His bread is so good, in fact, that one day last month, two older ladies actually fought over the last loaf. Another worker tried breaking them apart when one of the women fell on him, breaking his foot. The bread is that good!

We plan to leave Bandera May 31st so that we can be in Dallas for a June 2nd appointment for routine maintenance. Where we go after that is uncertain, though we hope to end up somewhere in western Kentucky so that we can spend time with our daughter and grandkids.

This experience has made me hesitant to make any concrete plans, having had to cancel four reservations already. I’m actually getting used to uncertainty, and am even looking to the future as an adventure. It’s a good thing I think of myself as a gypsy, because where we’ll end up is anyone’s guess.

Until next time, be safe. Stay well. And wash your hands!

Maria☺️