by Eddie McPuppers as told to B. Lynn Goodwin
Mommy and Daddy cover their mouths and noses with black masks.
Is everyone a bandit now?
If you’re wearing a bandit mask, are you going to steal me? Should I bite you in self-
Mommy and Daddy don’t have people over anymore. Not that they did all that much.
Mommy doesn’t have people Shushing and Writing in the living room. She doesn’t
invite either book club. Or movie group. But she vacuums anyway. I hate the r-r-r-r
of the vacuum cleaner.
My parents are gray-haired overgrown children. Mommy doesn’t walk good. I try to
walk slow to keep her safe, but I’d rather walk with Daddy. I know my parents mean
well. I love it when they scritch my belly. Mommy uses her fingernails on my chin.
I’ve become very protective of us Goodwin-Browns. Don’t know if it’s from COVID or
the TV they keep watching. The news is all scrambled with a lot of numbers. There
are pictures with lines going up and down. Sometimes there are four speakers at
once in separate frames.
Sometimes the people on the TV are crying. That’s so sad. They could pet me, but
nobody ever reaches through the picture frame. I don’t even think Mommy and
Daddy know those people, so what are they doing in our living room? Aren’t we
supposed to be isolating? So much to figure out.
Mommy just said that it’s easier to write in my voice than hers. Silly woman! She
loaned me a room in her brain for storing my thoughts. Hope she wiped it down
with alcohol. She’s not sick—just slow—but I’d hate to be the only dog-dog in the
world to get COVID-19.