Walking the dog

Earl and I have always been dog people, but my limited mobility affected the kind of dog parents we wanted to be.  I realize there are docile, lap critters who need loving homes, but we've never been able to pull off sharing our life with small creatures.  Earl's not home full time and I consider myself lucky to navigate independently. Most dogs need more than I can fairly give, at a pace I can't manage easily.  Lucy's end game in 2011 was difficult.*  At nearly 14, her hip arthritis and bad knees kept her from getting herself to a standing position.  Earl had just broken his leg and was on crutches.  He couldn't help when she went down.  I was using a walker continuously and no help.  The three of us made a pretty pathetic parade. If not for a dog–loving, out-of-town friend, I'm not sure how we would have coped that last weekend.  Fortunately, she only had to help Lucy up.
Lucy (1998—2011)

Earl and I make do with the occasional dog fix.  Even though our son and his family welcomed a golden retriever this summer, Porter is our grand puppy and does have his own home.  Like the grand children's visits, his are brief and non-custodial.  At either house, we were afraid he might think my walker was a toy rather than a device made of unchewable materials and something to avoid. The image of Porter and I in a heap somewhere had no appeal.  One weekend, our niece and nephew asked us to dog sit their six-year old springer spaniel, Prince.  It was only two days and we were up for doggy daycare.  We could even have Porter over for a puppy play date.  This was going to be fun.
Boys playing: Prince & Porter


While Earl joined friends for his Saturday morning walk, I decided to see how Prince and Skeeter got along.  Prince lived up to his name, seemed to know how to maintain a safe distance from a mobility scooter, what not to wrap his leash around and executed minimal side-switching.  Most importantly, he was content to go up and down our street multiple times.  As long as I was game and my battery held up, he certainly had the energy.  I was beginning to think about getting a dog.  They're smart enough to learn, I could feed and water a dog, and I had proven to myself that I could walk one as well.  Earl and I have a ridiculous amount of love for dogs. What else could there be?
Just walkin' the dog

Prince!  Please... don't!
I was a considerate dog walker, letting Prince sniff and explore to his heart's content.  Neither of us had any place to be.  It wasn't a gorgeous day, but it wasn't freezing or raining either.  Then Prince walked to our neighbor's yard, crossed to the other side of their water feature and began to circle.  The "What else?" came back to me.  He looked at me like I was crazy, while I pleaded, "No Prince, don't poop!".  That was crazy.  Spoiler alert: dogs poop; that's what they do. But when you're mobility impaired, scooping ability is also impaired and moving fast is definitely not an attribute.  I knew I could go home, call the neighbors, and they would have been fine with it.  But, I wasn't fine, and I mentally marked the spot so Earl could pick it up when he returned from his walk.  Fortunately, my yard men came and dealt with the poop without expressing offense.  There aren't many people you can ask to clean up after your dog.

The lesson: Being unable to scoop poop is the least of the reasons my permanent dog days are behind me.  Frankly, I don't view that as a big loss.

* Previous post: Lucy and the Chocolate Factory

Former canine companions: Keischa, Shadow, Holly, Samantha, Sydney


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