June 23, 2017
Miss LP continues to astound and amaze. 13 years old in May, and despite dire predictions still here, still going. (like her human mother, I admit) All days regardless of the weather, and we have moved into sunny and warm now, have several walks in them. They have changed in length and duration, but walk we do.
Reasoning she is senior dog, I was prepared for, what now is a “big city walk.” I sought to get to the chores long delayed by recent circumstances. The trice daily walk about is diminutive from days of yore, walk we do. Dressing in “work” clothes, under the impression, and thinking it would be a done and over with quickly. Let me assure you, nothing is quick, including walking. I wore a matching shorts and top, a major accomplishment in my day. I thought was going to be my hedge trimming outfit.
Neither was accomplished. I had a very lovely white outfit I never get to wear had I KNOWN that a quick trip around the block, and hedge trimming were not in the cards. OFF we go, sun is shining, ambulating well for an old girls.
We got the corner about 300 feet at most. The apprehension I know, she hesitates and stands there. I of course look to see if she is still standing, and she is. Thank god,dess. “show me” is a command now. She stands there.
I walk in one direction, the one I want to go in, she stands there. Then try across, thinking she wants the telephone pole across the street, nor does she want the third option, to the right. She wants, following me as I reverse up the street, in the direction we just came from. OFF we go home. Having accomplished nothing. (again much like my reality.)
Home we came, clipping along and down the driveway, she was, all the way to her door of La Tomato. She is grinning at me, I open her door, the back passenger side, the seat in the front pushed forward for her to be able to hop in. Like a cab driver I ask her “where does she want to go?”. As it appears the city walk has lost its appeal.
Down to the river to check on the wild life that lives there. Meandering thru the long at the sides, short grass in and around baseball diamonds. A favored topographic point, and occupation, for her as the baseball diamonds have the delicacy of and diligently snorfling for goose poop. Too early in the season. She knows where she is and headed to the gates on the other side. Which in the winter are frozen open. We cross to the gate, but the city staff, have bared closed with a plastic tie. We go left and over, then around, down, then back, forth, me trailing behind. This has always been, just we do it slower now, stopping a new occurrence, in the shade to catch a breather. The cookie bribe discovered and administered 12 years now, to get her back into the car, still works but her return is slow, that has not changed. She now “gets”, that we will return.
Shopping is a pastime she enjoys where MORE cookies are involved. The personnel at the canine sales outlet, not as generous with the biscuits, as say the post office. We were OFF in air conditioned comfort, for dog nutrients. Her food depleted in the bin at home. Inspired by the second T day of the week. Refilling the bin, get rid of the bag, in one fell swoop, as it was recycling day. Efficiently I know.
The gargantuan bag, transformed recently, to maximize your shopping experience, with a different picture on it now come with an immense cost. $75 per month, 15% of that is tax, get a free one at the 12th purchase. (used to be 10.) What was the original price of the bag 12 years ago. It sounds like one of those algebraic equations that you had to figure out when you were in high school. I have to get my younger sibling to figure out just how much the cost of the bag is, she being a math major, me not so much.
The province of Quebec goes on holiday this weekend to celebrate their patron saint. Reopened we did. The fat lady is not yet melodious, there are vents to vacuum, (gyp rock dust within, and not wanting to have another make work project for the restoration company in the fall, I insisted they come back and clean it out.) The china, and tableware returned late in the afternoon, an inspection of this that and the other thing, the “Fromage Frais” glowing on the walls, showed we had this and that to do, with the floors being put off to the fall.
Tomorrow, 12 years ago, Lucy came home, for the first time. My little dog – a heartbeat at my feet. Edith Wharton, Lucy Patricia, and MOI