Wednesday, December 4, 2013
It was early October, right around the time of my deposition, and I had just finished up with Bob's morning routine: disengaging the night pump, mixing his morning meds, flushing his tube, when I heard the distinct sound of a helicopter hovering near our house.
Now this is not highly unusual. We live in downtown, in a large city, and often choppers can be seen and heard hovering near the interstate if there is a traffic accident, or around the stadium on the day of a big game, or dashing to and fro from the hospital's rooftop landing pad.
So I didn't think much of the situation and I leashed up Boomer and headed out the front door for our morning walk.
The sun was just beginning to rise and the clouds in the eastern sky glowed orange and purple and red. I looked up, toward the interstate, expecting to see the helicopter there, but it wasn't. When I turned, I was rather surprised to see a bright reddish orange helicopter hovering directly above our garage in our backyard. Which was curious, to say the least.
But I still didn't think much about it. And Boomer and I headed east, down our block, on our usual route toward the alley. We were walking at an old dog's pace, Boomer stopping to sniff and pee along the way, when the helicopter flew from the back of our house to the street and turned east and followed us.