Where Are My Paragraphs?

I tried posting weeks ago. It didn't take. Finally, yesterday, A New Leash on Life, arrived. After many weeks of trying to find the whereabouts of its paragraphs of this current post, help arrived. My son found my paragraphs, the separators of clear and concise thought. I had done everything I could. It was now his turn.

He began to follow the same steps as I had. The difference: the confidence and interpretation of every entry he had made. He entered more places. I had clicked where it made sense. I 'searched' everywhere. Every applicable icon was 'interviewed'. His expertise and skill came together to find a solution. The problem was not solved but the paragraphs had finally re-appeared. I was thrilled to find them.

It is difficult to read any piece of the written word without paragraphs. Paragraphs light up a page. They are the foundation upon which a book is built. Words do not jump and scatter as they are categorized into separate, cohesive ideas and thoughts, throughout. Inserting periods and commas, where necessary, helps to 'breathe' life into any 'manuscript'. I was so happy. It was like family had come to visit.

Today's post was written quickly. The end of the month is today. The return brought logic and structure back into my life. I was no longer sad. Thank you, my son. It is often been said that we value most what we take for granted and then lose. I had taken those paragraphs for granted. Never again! I'm so happy.

During these past two weeks, another grandchild was welcomed into our ever expanding family. Our granddaughter is now among four other grandchildren, all boys. I was asked about finally getting a girl. I was surprised. That had never entered my mind. Every child is a gift. Furthermore, I already had my girls: 3 incredible 'daughters' who value me as I do them. I had hit the family jackpot.

Last week, my husband and I celebrated our 49^th anniversary. It was low key. The pandemic has made us all vigilant about who and where. We ordered take out fish and chips from a well known local landmark. But sadly, the meal was less than acceptable. The chips were over done and crunchy like celery. Had white potatoes been substituted for russet while overly fried in the two-step process? The fish had been cooked too long. Was there new staff that afternoon? And finally, the coleslaw that was included with this menu option was excruciatingly absent. It hadn't been in prior orders. Why? Where was my dessert?

It would seem to me that coleslaw, if it not drowning in that silly 'creamy' dressing, is the 'icing on the cake' of any order of food, whether it be fish 'n chips, ribs or plain chicken. It is a change of pace yet repeatedly absent in many take out orders, whether asked for or included as a part of the choice with the entree. Check the bag, I say. The 'seal of hygiene' on take-out food, a first during this pandemic, allows mistakes to happen, be ignored and hopefully, forgotten. Once gone who bothers to keep track of missing food, ordered or excluded?

So, stop forgetting it or we will go elsewhere. There are other eating establishments who do care and will cater to our basic requests. Who needs cake when you have delicious coleslaw.(The cake or pie can wait another day, maybe!)

A New Leash on Life

As I turned to go inside, that morning, our wiggler decided walking was fine but only if he carried the leash. So we walked - all 3 of us. One leash, two dogs and a mystified pet owner.

Our sweet boy, Mr. Wiggles, who had been diagnosed last year with a blood disorder that was killing his platelets, was in the throes of a new world order. All rigorous exercise ceased, to be reintroduced slowly at a more appropriate time. Internal bleeding could result from indiscriminate exercise. Things had to change. One hour of exercise per day had to be maintained for our dogs. They were large moving targets of love and boisterous activity.

Mr.Wiggler would stall, occasionally, in mid-walk as if to say let's do something else. Running was not encouraged. So, one morning, I dropped the leash to the ground.. I had other things to do. But I would return. Then it happened. He picked up the leash and walked himself. Then it dawned on me. Would he walk his sister, too?

Walking in the country poses hazards not necessarily known in the city. Rabid animals can appear suddenly with fatal consequences. As I tried to walk him that day I thought of other novel ways to entice him to move. Attaching a shorter leash to him made him happy while moving. When he slowed, I would give him the honour of carrying it. His sister was there wondering what was happening. She loved to move too so exercise was no problem here. He was chunky with a penchant to stand, sit and chew grass, nearby. His diet was nutrient dense with raw berries, cukes, carrot and celery stick, among other things. A new look at exercise had him walking solo with the leash in his mouth.

The leash was his new best friend. Into the house it would go, attached to the beautiful face of our wiggler. He loved to carry it while in there, too. We were amused but grateful that chewing grass, sitting and watching the neighbours were no longer that important to him. A new 'leash' on life was garnering his attention and ours, too. New leashes were on our agenda once the lock down was finished. Different textures would be added to give him a reason to walk, maybe to run.

A while back, gloves were his focus, so we took to throwing a garden glove for him to fetch. It worked till it did not. He had what trainers call a soft mouth. Nothing was ever torn. He simply wanted to carry stuff. If the leash meant that much, so be it. We would accommodate this simple request, with safe leash lengths and different textures. In the fenced enclosure, he would walk, preferably, with the leash in his mouth. His sister would walk with him, attached to the leash, with the other end in his mouth. I walked alongside the cavalcade, making sure Mr. Wiggles was not twisting 'Sally' into a pretzel with sudden gestures and backward maneuvers. I did not want her to fall. Her history of torn ligament surgeries keeps me mindful of her Olympic status. She never complains and is always fearless. A sports injury is just a stone's throw away for her.

Today, we walk our pets to keep their hearts and muscles in top shape. Mr. Wiggles gets the leash and brings it to me. He sits while I attach it to him. He's quiet. He knows the drill. Different strides and quickened paces help to re-awaken our hearts and minds to this newer outdoor routine. Walking is the best form of exercise, anyway. It is readily available, affordable and easily shared with others.

Dogs are only to happy to remind us to get up and go. They live in the present and offer no excuses. They want to run, fetch, or carry, some of them; but one in particular, our Mr. Wiggles, prefers just to  walk and carry. And I'm too happy to let him do it, sort of.