Today I had to leave the house for my 2.5 hour Remicade Infusion, which I get every 8 weeks to keep my Crohn’s disease in check. Aside from these bi-monthly excursions, I almost never leave our property. As you can imagine, our dogs love it and have quickly adapted to having us home 24/7, with no complaints. Despite spending time with them around the clock, it is still hard to leave them for even a few hours, because I can’t explain where I’m going or why I have to go. I have to leave, feeling the weight of their sullen eyes on my back, serenaded by the sounds of their sorrowful whimpers, something I have lost much of my built up immunity to, as the need to leave the house daily ended in March, so my defenses are low.

Harvey spends most week days in my makeshift home office (aka “the Giraffe Room”, 9-10 hours a day, lying behind me on pillows and blanket while I stress my way through the work day. He senses the moment I turn of my computer and dances excitedly to go downstairs together.

Today my husband texted me the picture below. His text message said:

“Had to turn giraffe room lights on. That’s where  Harvey is waiting on you.”

I can’t even with the heart melts right now.