Park no more

The other day (Wednesday, February 13th, 2013), in my continuing effort to give my doggie a good life despite the dreadful fate that has befallen us, I took my dog to nearby Boughton Park (“BOW-tin;” as in “wow”) for a long walk.
My wife died ten months ago, so there are no longer two of us to entertain the dog.
The dog’s toy-box had to be semi-retired. It’s still extant, but full of toys I can never play with. The dog extracts one, and I have to put it back.
I toss the toys around occasionally, but she can’t take them outside for fear of losing them.
So what I try to do is walk her as much as I can, although that comes out to about twice a day.
Boughton Park is about a four-mile walk, over two hours.
These long walks are also a distraction from my utter sadness.
The dog looks forward to park walks. Smells galore, deer-pucky to eat, and critters to chase. She’s a high-energy dog. She beats on me every morning to take her to the park.
I do so about three-or-four days per week, the days I don’t work out at the YMCA.
So I took the dog to the park Wednesday.
It was impossible.
I fell three times.
The snow had melted, then refroze, so the road in was all ice.
I fell almost as soon as I started hiking the road.
I made it about a quarter-mile, then fell again.
And falls on ice are hard —Slam!
I had to give up and turn around.
Walking the park had become impossible.
Now I had to walk the quarter-mile back to my van.
I fell one more time — Slam!
When I reached the parking-lot another regular dog-walker was just starting.
“How are the trails?” they asked.
“Terrible,” I said. “I had to give up. I’ve already fallen three times.”
It seems this happens every year. The snow melts and then refreezes making a walk impossible.
And it may be that way for months, until temperatures rise.
I tried again today (Friday, February 15th, 2013. I took a different route than the road in — a path — but got slammed to the ground again.
So much for that. My poor dog is being shorted by conditions.
I ordered ice-walkers from Zappos.

• My current dog is “Scarlett” (two “Ts,” as in Scarlett O’Hara), a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s seven, and is my sixth Irish-Setter. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. [Scarlett was from a failed backyard breeder.] By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad. She’s my fourth rescue.)
• My beloved wife of over 44 years died of cancer April 17th, 2012. At the time she was 68. I miss her dearly.
• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym, appropriately named the “Wellness-Center,” usually three days per week, about two-three hours per visit. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east nearby where I live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles east. —I live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield, southeast of Rochester.)