After years of homelessness, our long-unused dog stroller found its place, hanging in a closet, well out of sight.
What satisfaction we felt! One small improvement led to another, and in a matter of hours, a previously cluttered basement was transformed into a spacious work-out room.
I had no inkling that I would rue the cleaning of that space. No black cat had crossed my path; all ladders were safely stored in their locked and upright positions—but bad luck was on its way.
I blame the stroller.
The next morning, Sophie the Wonder Dog stepped out of the side yard door after a good night’s rest. The area is tightly fenced, but she took off like a shot. In hot pursuit of an animated squirrel, she zigged and cut, finally pulling to a complete stop with her eyes trained high on an out-of-reach tree. It was a surprise move for that hour, to go from sound sleep to explosive pursuit, but I chalked it up to spring fever. Nothing more.
We had friends arriving midday for a visit, so I decided to take Sophie for a walk. Weeks of lousy weather had brought on cabin fever, and I figured we would both feel better after a thorough stretching of legs. Unfortunately, every dog owner in the area had the same idea.
Walking is best done in peace, so after a short attempt on the public way tested all tolerance, we retreated to our own back yard for a leisurely game of fetch. Back and forth we went, but at the fifth toss, our rhythm broke. Sophie hobbled toward me. In a blink, our summer changed.
Surgery, restrictions, ramps and carpet runners: It’s a quiet time, while nature takes its course.
The stroller is back in service, too. I know it’s not to blame, but superstitions make a good story.
Besides, my fingers are crossed.
Better luck will arrive, any day. (c)
