Bitten, Part 2
A month after I was attacked, the dog’s owner, Kathryn, appeared at my front door. I had thought it odd to not hear from her sooner—she is, after all, a very nice person. It turns out she didn’t know who her dog attacked. After another neighbor told her my story, she came bearing flowers and profuse apologies. I was grateful for her kindness. The night of the attack, the police didn’t interview me in the ER until after they had secured the dog and had conversations with the owner and Animal Control. The investigating officer told me that Kathryn would be charged criminally for what her dog had done and would have to go before a judge (for a fine, I presume). That bit of information surprised me, but I think Kathryn was even more surprised when she reported to the...
Bitten!
I was headed up the hill on one of my loops around the neighborhood when I saw the dog sitting in his front yard. Kathryn’s dog is usually in her house, barking and tearing up window blinds when I pass by. I’m always glad there is glass between us. A red flag waved in my mind when I saw him out, owner nowhere in sight, so I crossed to the other side of the road a couple houses before I reached his. No need to make him feel threatened by being too close. Sadly, I was not far enough away. Just as I drew opposite his house, the dog charged me. I immediately yelled, “NO!” thinking I could scare him away or that Kathryn would hear and stop him. Her car was, after all, in the driveway. No such luck. The dog took one vicious bite of my left leg, just behind the knee,...
One Hour, Five DUIs
The day didn’t go as planned. Some are like that. Most aren’t. It was 12:30 and our Wednesday was pretty much complete. Grocery-shopping done, senior citizen discount received. Leisurely lunch. All we needed were afternoon naps to top off the fulfilling lives of retirees. A call came from a friend we hadn’t heard from and had been concerned about since her recent divorce. “How’d you like to get tanked?” It wouldn’t have been my first choice for the day, but I knew there had to be more behind her question. I wanted to be a good friend. My husband’s motives may not have been so pure. Within an hour we were on the road. Our friend knew exactly where we needed to go, a joint she called TLETA. Seems it was over forty-five minutes away. Though I’m a non-drinker, I...
Call Me Granny
We got stuck behind a pokey driver this morning, doing 35 in a 55 mph zone. Couldn’t get around him because of the double centerline, so cars were lining up behind us. I wanted to scream because I like to do everything quickly. Wasting time is not an option for me. “Why doesn’t the old geezer speed up?” I asked my husband. “We don’t know a geezer is driving that car,” George said. “It has to be! It’s against the law to go that much under the speed limit and the people behind us are liable to think it’s our fault, that we’re the old people who don’t know how to drive!” “I don’t care what people think,” George said, “which is obvious since I’m driving a car that says Call Me Granny on the back of it.” Oh, yeah. That’s right. A gift bestowed on my little SUV by...
Easter Egg Hunt
Easter egg hunts for the elderly don’t require a team of organizers. The old folks can fill the eggs for a fun activity at the assisted living facility. Great way to keep them busy and happy! The best part is that the seekers themselves can hide the eggs for later discovery because they certainly won’t remember where they placed them. When you reach a certain age, all things become new.
Chocolate, Revisited
Dove dark chocolates, in their unmistakable red foil wrappers, are my favorites. I eat lots of them and everyone, friend and family alike, knows of my great weakness for these tasty little pleasures. When walking our big black dog with my husband on a recent day, I saw one of those red wrappers in the street, the luscious piece of chocolate squished flat by a car tire. Who knows, I may have been the one who dropped it since I always carry an emergency Dove in my pocket, but it distressed me just the same. Such a senseless waste of good chocolate! My greater concern, though, was the chance my dog would see the morsel. Prince is quick to snatch up anything edible he encounters on our walks regardless of how spoiled it might be, so when I saw the flattened chocolate...
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