Playing my last round of league golf today, I sculled the ball short and to the right on an easy par three. The reason? A bug had landed on my ball.
This circumstance is comical only to people who don’t play golf. Myriad are the distractions that can foul up a score. As if it were not difficult enough to deposit a dimpled sphere into an elusive hole within a prescribed number of strokes, the game of golf requires the player to quiet the mind. Ignoring gnats is the least of these worries.
Mental clutter comes in many flavors: One’s standard to-do list; slights and misunderstandings; eating too much or not enough; and the weather, of course. All this and more must be put aside in the quest for a respectable post.
My antidote to getting wrapped around the axle of life’s annoyances is exercise, especially with my four-legged friend Sophie the Wonder Dog. So when a game of fetch turned into a multi-part medical adventure, I sat down, did the math; and then ordered a stroller for my dog.
It may seem implausible that ordering a stroller would remedy anything, but Sophie’s discomfort and lameness had prompted me to pull her around the house on her bed. I was willing, but my anxiety rose as we became more sedentary. A week of missed walks during the planning and caring stage was tolerable. Post surgery, languishing for nine recuperative weeks, or more exactly, 189 miles, was another thing indeed.
Everyday vexations evaporated as I focused on the impending delivery. I borrowed a couple of pet ramps from a friend, bought a pill cutter, a lifting harness, and a blue inflatable recovery collar that looks like a flower. Though recuperative walks will be short at first, Sophie, that stroller and I will complete our regular laps. The cobwebs will clear from my mind.
Mustering patience, gathering focus, we’ll begin to play again. (c)
