A Hoarse Of A Different Color

Posted by Loulou on Apr 15, 2015 | 3 comments

Gargle with warm salt water, like this.

Mama with no voice, oh, boy. And it’s papa’s birthday. What a present. So they’re going to celebrate when the baddies go away.

Well, if you ask me I think it’s traveling all over creation that gave mama that bug she has. And naturally, she can’t talk to ME with no voice, so it’s even worse than I feared.

I am under the impression that anthros often suffer from travel along with benefitting and seeing the world and expanding horizons and all that, but the bugs in Texas have always been pretty insidious and mama landed a doozy.

Still, so many good things happen during travel (as if I would know but I do have the experience of large ships that make horrendous noise and shudder in the night, thereby causing me to curl in a ball somewhere dark and comforting) that I suppose one could justify it all. That is, when one stays healthy.

But since my anthros are are, er, not spring chickens any longer, perhaps they are more susceptible to rogue viruses that appear to be mutating yearly around the planet.

Still, sometimes when having to lie down and be quiet, a really good book appears for mama and she is off into another world, hardly paying attention to coughs and drips. In this case, it is John Byrne Cooke’s marvelous memoire, On The Road With Janis, of his time as road manager for Janis Joplin, whose thrilling voice had never been heard before and has not been heard of again since her untimely death.

Of course, since mama was around during a lot of that period in music history, it is especially poignant to her.

Still, to be sick on a trip is the pits.

Come home, you two, and rest up until the next go-round, which I hope is not too soon. I need some cuddles!!!