Walkies

Yesterday (Saturday, November 8, 2008), as is usually the case on Saturday mornings, I took our dog to the so-called elitist country-club for a long hike on the trails.
Linda works at the post-office Saturday mornings, so we can’t run together at the park.
A few months ago we were able to start out together — me to the park, and Linda to the post-office.
But as daylight got shorter, that became impossible.
It would still be dark when Linda left.
Even after the return to Standard Time, it was still dark when Linda left (about 7:30 a.m.).
So I’d eat breakfast, take a nap, and then take the dog to the park about 10:30 a.m.
The dog seems to love the hike more than running, since it’s longer and more on trails.

—1) The wooden platform bridge that washed out last August in a downpour has been replaced.
The Boy Scouts replaced it last weekend with two discarded telephone-poles as cross-beams.
All they did was nail a deck of 2X8 treated planks on top, making a platform bridge much like the one that washed away.
Trouble is, it’s about twice as big as the one before (which was good-size; it coulda supported a pickup), and about three feet above the path.
It needs steps. It’s a huge jump, both on and off.
Often I have to sit just to get off it.

—2) A large gaggle of furiously honking geese flew over our heads — geese returning north in a “V.”
Reminded me of the Famblee-site.
The V was being led by a goose with a handicap-tag.
“Hey, where ya goin’?” said one goose in the back. “Who made you leader? North is that way. You got us headed south!”
“I’m the Ride-Captain,” the lead goose bellowed. “I know where I’m goin’ ‘cause I read the map!”
“Would it kill ya to ask for directions?” another goose asked.
Look out below. GUACAMOLE ALERT!

—3) While walking the paths, a man strode out of the woods-brush.
“Woof-woof-woof-woof! We’ll have none a’ that! I’m the guard-dog here,” Scarlett said.
Later, one path skirts the West Pond, and fishermen were out in a small rowboat.
“Woof-woof-woof-woof! Never saw that before.”
“Bark first; ask questions later!”

—4) -a) Hiking the East Pond Trail we came upon “Pookie,” being walked by an elderly couple.
All-of-a-sudden Pookie was yanking every which way, trying to check out our dog.
“Don’t worry. He’s friendly,” the old man said as he got dragged down a slope.
“Well, I don’t know about this one,” I said. She can be aggressive, especially toward Lotharios.
“I g-g-got the wr-wr-wrong l-l-leash,” the poor man shouted, desperately trying to hold on.
It was an extendible, but at full extension.
(“I got this fantabulous extendible leash on the personal recommendation of Bob Hughes,” my old friend Matt Saxon once said at the mighty Mezz. “But it’s got me wrapped around a tree!”)
“He’s only a puppy,” the man said.
Well, at nearly 100 pounds, it was an awfully big puppy; an extremely strong yellow lab. Yank-uh-pull!
“We’ll let you pass first,” his nervous wife said.
They tried to get him to sit off the path, but Pookie was having none of it.
“He sure is bound-and-determined,” the wife said, trying to corral a wildly bouncing monster.
Both dogs did gigantic lunges; determined to check each other out.
No aggression, but I had to pull mightily to get by.
-b) We encountered Pookie a second time, but this time they tried to be prepared — and we were in a flat area.
They again tried to get Pookie to sit off the trail to the side, as I approached.
But again Pookie would have none of that — yank-uh-pull-uh-lurch. Lunge-BOINK!
“I know all about it,” I said, as I yanked by.
“It ain’t easy being an older person with a young dog. This dog was born in 2005; me in 1944.”

Our current dog is “Scarlett;” a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s three-plus, and is our sixth Irish-Setter.

“The so-called elitist country-club” is nearby Boughton (“BOW-tin” as in “ow”) Park, where I run and we walk our dog. It was called that long ago by an editor at the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, where I once worked, because it will only allow taxpayers of the three towns that own it to use it. We are residents of one of those towns.

“Linda” is my wife of 40+ years. Like me she’s retired, but she works part-time at the West Bloomfield post-office.

The “Famblee-site” is our family’s web-site at MyFamily.com.

“‘Hey, where ya goin’?’ said one goose in the back. ‘Who made you leader? North is that way. You got us headed south!’ ‘I’m the Ride-Captain,’ the lead goose bellowed. ‘I know where I’m goin’ ‘cause I read the map!’” all refer to my all-knowing, blowhard brother-from-Boston, the macho ad-hominem king, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say. He rides motorcycle with a group of guys from his area, and is the self-appointed “Ride-Captain.” Once he took over driving from my father bellowing “I know where I’m goin’ ‘cause I read the map!” —My brother has and uses a handicap-tag.

RE: GUACAMOLE ALERT! —Goose-poo looks like guacamole.

The “mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired almost three years ago. Best job I ever had. Matt Saxon, a graphic-artist, was a fellow employee during my employ.