I hear the rhythmic, hopeful, thump, thump, thump of a tail on the kitchen floor. My dog waits in the wings to do her walk. She's rocking on go, ready to hit the road, to explore a waiting world outside.
But as the morning minutes slowly tick by and no doors are opening, Kangaroo Roo's tail now folds between her legs as if she's trying to hold her belly in place. There's a sad, 'My person-you're not doing right by me' expression in her eyes.
It's been several months since the dawgie and I tried to lift up and fly heavenward with a gaggle of geese-instead we had cascaded and slammed the sidewalk. The sidewalk didn't crack, but my elbow did and part of the arm had several long, deep skin cuts. Heart pumping heavily, I struggled to sit up, managed for the Roo Roo and I to make it home, and called Dr. Brother Alvin. We went to a critical care clinic where my elbow was stitched up, and then we were sent for X-Rays and more evaluation. That was a few months ago. The stitches have long since gone, the broken elbow's out of a sling and I can now bend, set dog food bowls down for Petey Poo and Roo Roo and tie my shoelaces. But in other ways I’m still trying to get my body back in place.
This latest body slam put me in mind of a couple of other bite the dust moments I've had, one almost twenty years ago. No doggie to share the blame with on this nose dive, but this was one I never did again. I learned something the hard way, which seems to be par for the course of urs truly. Bottom line, it's not a smart thing to walk and read.
On a Friday the thirteenth, strolling down St. Andrews and reading Sanctuary by William Faulkner, about the time Popeye waggled a corn cob at Temple Drake, my foot waggled.
I hit the pavement.
Long story short: I crippled around for several days with doctor husband Willard insisting I needed an x-ray. When I finally listened and did, I had broken my right ankle.
That was many long years ago; the days and shades of time moved forward.
I go back to another pavement kiss. A few years back Roo and I took off on our every morning trot down St. Andrews Drive. Toe-stumping on a small rise in the sidewalk, I suddenly pitched forward. Throwing out my arms, but still gripping the dog's leash, I sprawled on my left side onto the concrete.
Roo Roo and I can thank Bill Hankins and an unknown young lady who helped me get back on my feet. It wasn't easy, but the dog and I managed to cripple on home. A few days later, with that taste of concrete still in my mouth, the left wrist swelled like a blown up piece of bubblegum and the forearm hurt like it had been hit with a hammer.
My dear husband was no longer with me, but I knew what he would tell me to do. A short while later I went to an orthopedic surgeon and had my hand X-rayed. I had a distal radius fracture of the left wrist. A brace was put on.
Sweet relief. The wrist healed.
Time passed, but one concrete bite to the next may be my modus operandi. It seems my feet and brain are not in sync like they should be.
It hasn't come easy but after trying to catch a goose, instead of heavenward bound I had found myself digging with the earthworms.
With this latest sprawl I've come to realize more than a few things. It may be time for some lifestyle changes. There's an old saying, "When you're being dragged, let go of the leash."
So, I'm here to tell you, tuck-tailed dog; I might not have had another broken bone if I'd let go of you my Roo Roo. But, beseeching eyes, sad face and all, you might have gone away from me and I'd have a different tail to tell, one that's too sad to even think about.
I hate to let you down, but for now you'll just have to keep tucking tail and rocking; we aren't going out the door.
Roo Roo
