In the spirit of today, All Hallows’Eve, I bring you the following scary story.
Last week, the Bohunk left me. On Monday, she went with our daughter, Jess, and granddaughter Chloe to Fargo to celebrate our grandson, Connor’s, birthday. Three nights and four days is the longest separation we’ve had since joining the “trailer trasherati” in July.
I’ve come to understand that the work the Bohunk does around the house is important, and I’ve picked up the necessary skills to get the essentials done when she’s not around. I didn’t vacuum or make the bed until the last day, but I did take care of the animals daily. Each of the two dogs has a different menu for their two-a-day meals. Winthrop is simpler: just fill his cat food bowl with kibbles when he starts following me around and meowing his unhappiness. The Bohunk always feeds the dogs, so she left two pages of precisely written instructions–neither of us trusts my memory anymore.
Routine is essential for old men like me and adult canines. Four times a day, each dog gets out to walk, sniff, pee, poop, and maybe bark at squirrels. The diminutive Bohunk takes the smaller, more docile of the pair. I take the blond bundle who suffers from squirrel, pigeon, and strange-dog derangement syndrome. With the Bohunk gone, and the potential problems of managing two very different dogs on leash, I was out eight times a day.
In all, the days passed without a serious incident, and the gals were back in our neck of the woods Thursday afternoon.
Here’s where I mention that Jess, our third daughter and selfdescribed control freak, has been badgering me about the risks of using an extendable leash with the big dog. Her hectoring reminds me of the torture I inflicted on my own parents with my worrying and pontificating when they were my age. Sorry, Mom and Dad. Is Jess becoming me?
Thursday was a great day. I vacuumed, emptied the trash, made the bed, and washed the glass-top coffee table in anticipation of the inspection when “she who must be obeyed” arrived. But the next day, the fears of “The Jess” came to life. And not because of the dog or her leash, although it did happen on our Friday morning walk.
After Fiona and I had completed our usual route and she finished her business, we were just across the street from our house. It was a lovely fall day. I saw a car coming, but we had plenty of time to cross. “Let’s go,” I said.
My torso started moving before my feet began. I did a face plant, with the dog by my side. In less than a second, I went from vertical to horizontal, falling to the pavement like a rotting poplar falls in the woods. A quick, pained glance showed that the oncoming car had stopped a dozen yards away, its driver probably worried about the delay.
Near as I can recall, my knees were the first to bounce, followed by my right hand and wrist. The leash, which I managed to keep control of, was in my left hand. Next to hit was my ever-present pipe, clenched in my teeth, and then my right cheekbone and eye socket. Though the fall may have looked funny, it hurt like hell.
Slowly, I rose to the vertical, dog at my side, and stumbled home.
The Bohunk, just leaving with her charge, was verklempt. I confessed my lack of attention to staying upright and shuffled inside for an assessment. My knees were bruised, but my pants were fine. My left hand holding the leash was unscathed; the other took a beating. Three out of four fingers were bruised and swelling fast. Before too long, they were the color of Minnesota Vikings purple. Palm and wrist sore, but didn’t seem broken. I’d broken the stem on one of my favorite pipes, and it took revenge with a cut lip. Cheekbone, sore to the touch, was turning shades of red and blue. A spot of blood in the eyebrow was all I could see, but within minutes, I had a shiner of epic proportions. I may be exaggerating, but I haven’t blackened an eye since my teen years.
So, the worst fears of my control freak daughter had come to pass. And it wasn’t caused by the dog and its extendable leash. Since she was coming by the house for a partial family gathering on Saturday and had heard nothing about my Friday fiasco, I chose to wear sunglasses when she arrived. I knew the lecture would be forthcoming, but I wanted to delay it until post greetings.
Listening to her scolding, I was not disappointed. She be me.
