The Apples are Calling

He just stood there, this 85 pound retriever 'puppy,' tail wagging steadily but evenly, in slow motion, reminding me that more was yet to come. Was I going to react and do his bidding, soon, he wondered? I smiled at the moment, its predictable reminder. The apples are calling. The apples are calling.

It had been another busy day. In and out with this 11-year-old seemed to be an exercise in futility when bunny droppings lay hidden. Openings in our high chain link fence did not deter these little munchkins. They always came through the fence via the 'basement doors' If our Wiggler saw mommy rabbit, he'd run but she ran faster without breaking a sweat. It was exhausting work in many different ways. As time passed, I realized that this member of the rabbit species was also a helpful ally. She became his coach, helping to jump start his metabolism. Chasing her became his job and helped in weight loss.

In the house we encouraged our wiggler to fetch and carry, keeping him moving even when apple time was near. A toss onto his bed would encourage a brisk walk to fetch this fruity edible 'toy'. It was his addiction. He wanted me to know it was his as he walked back and forth. He was ready. Holding this prize made him so happy. It's nutrients and calorie counter benefits were my secrets; its delicious mind-numbing taste, his. 

Apples were akin to a zero calorie food. The calories it contained equalled the calories it took to digest it. With few teeth in place, our boy needed help to chew each morsel. An oral disease of unknown origin affected the roots of those enamel chompers. Few teeth remained. Many had been extracted and a new way of eating apples found.  I would hold it while he chewed being careful to avoid the core full of seeds of the poisonous kind. Where there is a will there is a way.

Our wiggler is happiest carrying the object of his affection and addiction. He knows its aroma and the word. Knowing they would soon to be offered, a thrice daily offering to our sweet boy, this fruit would stop him in mid run or walk. “Would you like an apple?” A run to the door would result. 

Apples of all types come calling. Red or green. A recent haul of freshly picked organic honey crisp apples has the Wiggler wondering what is in those bags that are so sweet smelling. “Go pick one, my boy.” He looks inside in wonder. I choose one for him. He is so pleased with his catch then walks and walks showing us his prize. We know and understand, encouraging him in his latest bout of exercise. He walks up to me and drops it into my hand then devours it down to the core. Another day another round of apples. Life cannot be get better than this. I know little man. I know.