It's hard to keep a straight face......
Every night I try to take our dog Killian for a walk before supper.
I figure it’s the least I can do. The stroke makes me not relate to the dog very well. I’m a dog-person, but rather distant. I feel badly that Killian is suffering the effects of my stroke.
So here we are at dusk walking up the road (State Route 65) to Michael Prouty Park, a rather turgid treeless assemblage of soccer and lacrosse and baseball fields. Killian is hunting: hoovering all the brush and grass.
Quite often the park is filled with bloated minivans and SUVs and Hummers, parents yelling for their kids to “poke-poke-poke” in lacrosse. It’s all about intimidation, baby!
The fields were empty tonight (Friday, May 18, 2007), but a passel of minivans was assembled at the pavilion — an open shelter full of picnic-tables surrounded by pull-down garage-doors.
That pavilion is the onliest building in the park; and the onliest place to escape if it rains (or snows); or from the wind.
The soccer-fields are surrounded by a rectangular stony path of crusher-run.
What I try to do is walk Killian around that path, although he likes to cut across the field.
We usually always cut through the pavilion — which tonight was the location of a cub-scout ceremony.
A droll pack-leader was at an improvised podium, and a fire was crackling in an outside burn-barrel. Parents and uniformed scouts were seated at the picnic-tables, or standing along the perimeter of the pavilion.
A great ceremony was taking place — it was all I could do to keep Killian from barging right through the middle of it. What usually happens is that the dog walks me — we’ve never had a dog that pulls like Killian.
“We are gathered here to award Jason with the Wolf-pack badge; the first step in the scout badge program.”
“As you all know, scouting is a parent program too. So you as Jason’s parents can be proud that Jason has achieved the Wolf-pack badge. We therefore honor you with this little silver pin that you can wear with pride.” (It’ll end up in the Flint landfill.)
We had passed the pavilion and were walking away. Droll pack-leader was receding in the distance.
“Now, to celebrate this great achievement, I ask you to all do the wolf howl.”
40 voices upraised: “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!”
I figure it’s the least I can do. The stroke makes me not relate to the dog very well. I’m a dog-person, but rather distant. I feel badly that Killian is suffering the effects of my stroke.
So here we are at dusk walking up the road (State Route 65) to Michael Prouty Park, a rather turgid treeless assemblage of soccer and lacrosse and baseball fields. Killian is hunting: hoovering all the brush and grass.
Quite often the park is filled with bloated minivans and SUVs and Hummers, parents yelling for their kids to “poke-poke-poke” in lacrosse. It’s all about intimidation, baby!
The fields were empty tonight (Friday, May 18, 2007), but a passel of minivans was assembled at the pavilion — an open shelter full of picnic-tables surrounded by pull-down garage-doors.
That pavilion is the onliest building in the park; and the onliest place to escape if it rains (or snows); or from the wind.
The soccer-fields are surrounded by a rectangular stony path of crusher-run.
What I try to do is walk Killian around that path, although he likes to cut across the field.
We usually always cut through the pavilion — which tonight was the location of a cub-scout ceremony.
A droll pack-leader was at an improvised podium, and a fire was crackling in an outside burn-barrel. Parents and uniformed scouts were seated at the picnic-tables, or standing along the perimeter of the pavilion.
A great ceremony was taking place — it was all I could do to keep Killian from barging right through the middle of it. What usually happens is that the dog walks me — we’ve never had a dog that pulls like Killian.
“We are gathered here to award Jason with the Wolf-pack badge; the first step in the scout badge program.”
“As you all know, scouting is a parent program too. So you as Jason’s parents can be proud that Jason has achieved the Wolf-pack badge. We therefore honor you with this little silver pin that you can wear with pride.” (It’ll end up in the Flint landfill.)
We had passed the pavilion and were walking away. Droll pack-leader was receding in the distance.
“Now, to celebrate this great achievement, I ask you to all do the wolf howl.”
40 voices upraised: “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!”
posted by BobbaLew at 7:16 PM
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