Honestly? It’s been a weird couple of weeks.
After four days in Washington, followed by a week dog-sitting Kacie the Cockapoo, I’m home at last. It feels a bit like coming back down to earth. Close to landing. Not quite grounded, but vaguely hovering above Terra Firma, close to setting down.
Kacie the Cockapoo is nine years old and abandoned her canine craving for co-dependency years ago. She does not demand constant attention, only food, the occasional scratch behind the ears and short walks a few times a day.
Spanky, however, is my new charge. He is an 8-month old black lab. He’s still learning. Sigh. My job this past week has been to visit him once a day and take him for a walk.
At my first visit last Sunday, after a thirty-minute battle to put on the red harness designed to prevent him from pulling me off my feet, I gave up and hooked the lead to his collar. Sure, he’s a strong lab, but I’m no lightweight. I was confident I could handle him.
Spanky and I made it outside and stood together on the lawn while I adjusted the volume on my Nano. I thought it was a good sign that he stood patiently by my side without chasing the squirrel on the other side of the drive. Little did I realize.
I noticed my left foot began to feel unusually warm. I even remember thinking how nice the sunlight felt as it warmed my toes. But it felt really warm. Really, really warm. And wet.
Sparky hasn’t learned to lift his leg yet. But his dog walker has learned pretty quickly to keep her feet out from under Sparky’s little…well…
And so goes life.