Scott and I are busy packing up our stuff for the long trip home to Colorado. As I pack, it is difficult for me to tear my mind from this one question: How many critters will be coming home with us?
U.S. Customs requires health forms for the cats and the dog -- they have to be up to date on their Rabies vaccine and they've got to have a certificate of health from a vet stating that they are not carrying any transmissible diseases. This certificate is cheap and easy to get from a vet here. After a cursory glance at the animals, he signs the form and post-dates it close to our departure date so that we won't get any trouble from the airline or from Customs. It is stuff like this that makes Mexico great. No fuss. Just sign and date the form. It doesn't have to be today's date -- any date will do.
The cats and dog are clean and disease-free. We know that. But, what about the cockroaches? Geckos? Scorpions? Mosquitoes? Or, God forbid, an Iguana! Eeek. That is my nightmare. Taking the top off of my giant Le Creuset pot only to find a big, hissing Iguana thrashing its tail and ready to claw my face to pieces.
Nacho, Anna, and Libbie should be able to cross the border without a hitch and when we get home, they will be welcomed into the house immediately. Our bags and boxes, however, will be subject a to Queen of the Household-imposed quarantine in our garage or on our driveway or someplace -- ANY place -- outside of our house. Then we will sort through them, piece by piece, wiping off whatever dirt, gecko poop, and cockroach eggs we missed while packing. THEN, and ONLY then, they may come inside and put themselves away. They will do that, won't they?
The dilemma, though, is our clothes. And shoes. And bags. And bedding. And towels. They all smell like mold and sweat and dirt. They remind me of the bags of dirty clothes I used to bring home from summer camp and drop on the garage floor for my mom to deal with. They probably have living, breathing organisms embedded in them. Hmmm...those may need to make a trip to a laundromat where I will gladly sit all day with a book, commandeering every giant washer in the place while I wash the Mexico out of our clothes, towels, sheets, and blankets.
Ahhh, yes, it's time to come home.