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Some Heroes Hop Ann Wagner
On New year's day, 2003, Tribble began her morning wake-up routine much earlier than usual. I had been to a quiet and non-alcoholic New Year's Eve gathering ;the night before, and when I went to bed I had been looking forward to sleeping in. I forced my eyes open. It wasn't even dawn yet. Did the clock say five-thirty? I was groggy and had a pounding headache for some reason. No way was I going to get up at five-thirty; especially on a holiday. I mumbled as much to Tribble and turned back over to go to sleep. Tribble did her around-the room hop. Food dish hockey. Gnawing on the bedside table legs. She seemed frantic, going from one thing to the next non-stop. It made my head throb even more. "Oh all right," I muttered to my furry tormentor. What's the matter with you this morning?" I decided I'd get up and feed her and then go back to bed. But when I sat up, I became aware of an overwhelming smell. Gas! The only thing in my apartment that uses natural gas is the ancient matchlit oven and stovetop. When I dashed into the kitchen to check it that New Year's morning, I discovered the pilot lights had gone out. Who knows how long gas had been poisoning the air in my small apartment. I quickly opened the doors and windows. When it was safe again, I gave my hero-bunny her breakfast, plus a kiss on the nose. I wish I could have awarded her a medal. |
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