Saturday, June 16, 2007

A Walk on the Wet Side/ My-Dog-Blog Down for Maintenance

(First Posted 11/06/06 and 11/14/06)

A Walk on the Wet Side. . .

After stepping out on the dogs, warm and snug in the house, I drove to the pool, suited up, swam one lap, and was promptly told to get out of the water because the power was out and the necessary illumination and access to 911 was unavailable. One of us would surely collapse of heart failure or asphyxiate on the chlorine that was not adequately circulating. They were taking no chances since some of us resemble middle-aged manatees in Speedos.

The wind picked up but not quite enough to lift us all away. It was cold, wet, dark--and exhilarating-- for Maggie and Geordie-- if not for me. They simply shook off their waterproof coats and were as good as if they'd been in the dryer for a full cycle and then some for fluff's sake.

As for me, I doffed my wet clothes, pathetic human that I am. . .

Jill, Geord, Mag

My-Dog-Blog Down For Maintenance. And Me, Too. (Rambling.)

It was the first clear day in weeks. The sky did not wag a grey cloudy finger and threaten to rain. Finally, the two uber-psyched Cairn terriers and I hopped-- they hopped; I simply placed my derriere on the seat and buckled up-- into the car to drive them to their beloved Canemah Cemetery Trail for a casual walk/cavort/run/revel. It had been a week since it even seemed possible to venture there sans waders or fins and goggles.

A full-fledged November day with fallen leaves from deciduous trees in all shades implying all the colors of the spectrum beckoned. The cool tingle in our nostrils promised to heighten the experience and fifty-something-degree temperature seemed the season's perfect choice.

So we suited up, jumped into the car in dizzy anticipation of a bracing jaunt.

The car didn't start. I was stuck in PARK and couldn't even jam it out by applying pressure to the brakes. Not even a faint click.

So I sighed, regrouped, and tried assorted other sequences until I gave up, resigned to the fact that we were banished to a rather mundane walk through our minefield of a neighborhood. I broke the news to Maggie and Geordie, as if my words actually made an iota of difference to them.

Geordie wanted to stop at the neighbor's fig tree and see if he could glean a couple of straggler-fruits. We found one and shared it three ways, but found it lacking the sweetness of just two weeks ago. We ate it anyway. No one wanted to chance another; it was time to move on.

I convinced my husband Larry ("Married to the Job") --I more like guilted him to death-- to come home and to assist me in getting the car started. The sun had already begun its descent. First and foremost, I needed to get to the bank. I made short stops-- leaving the car precariously unlocked and running-- and hoped that no one would be desperate enough to steal my pathetic little car. (There are hidden benefits to driving a crummy, non-luxurious, non-Japanese car.)

Finally I returned home only to have locked myself out after having brought in bags of groceries (re-establishing myself to Maggie and Geordie as the best hunter/gatherers EVER).



Alas, I am not omnipotent enough to walk through doors, so I climbed the back fence and squeezed through the dog door enough to reach the lock, managing to get stuck just past my torso. Finally, I wriggled my way out.

It would become clear to me that it was time to prey. After all, Geordie is a legally ordained minister of the Universal Life Church. He even has his own marquee:

and he does pastoral counseling

The dogs would dine on organic greens, including arugula, beet greens, kale and free-range chicken. As for me, the day could barely muster up a measly humble pie.

:-(
Jill, Mag, Geord

No comments: