Walkin’ in the rain

Yesterday (Wednesday July 25th) I decided to walk my dog in Kershaw Park at the north end of Canandaigua lake.
I usually do that on weekends so my aquacise instructor can join me with her dog. But this weekend an arts festival will be at Kershaw, which could severely limit parking.
My aquacise instructor is not retired, so unlike me she can’t do weekdays.
It was a rainy day, but my weather-radar said a break was coming.
My dog was groomed that morning, so we could not go to our usual park. Kershaw is 14 miles away, as opposed to four. But there are many more distractions. Grooming was in Canandaigua.
It was drizzling as we began; we start from a midpoint. We headed toward the eastern end. Lunge-YANK! Fervent barking, followed by “PET ME!”
Not everyone wants to be licked by a overly friendly dog. A pretty young girl was tossing things into the lake for her dog to retrieve — she kept looking at my dog.
We had to give up after a dog-fight.
“Oh, what a pretty dog,” strangers say. “What kind of dog is it?”
“Irish Setter,” I say. “Irish number seven, rescue number five. Extremely hard to find. I was lucky. This dog is a divorce victim. He’s nine.”
“He doesn’t act that old.” LURCH, bark-bark-bark, nuzzle-nuzzle!
“Look at his nose,” I say. “It’s starting to go white.”
Back toward the center-point. A deluge was coming.
“Here it comes,” I said.
We almost made it to the center-point, but it started pouring. We ducked inside an open picnic shelter, and I sat at a table.
It rained buckets. Drainage began washing into our shelter, which had a concrete floor.
Fifteen minutes, but then it stopped. Back onto the path. It looked like we could continue, so we walked westward. All the way to the western extremity, then back toward the center-point.
Not many distractions if it’s rainy. Few joggers or bicyclists, and few aging couples walking hand-in-hand.
It looked like we could continue east; no showers were coming.
I got dragged onto a pier where the Canandaigua Lady docks. A young couple was lovey-dovey, and we were interrupting.
“What’s that unfinished building?” the guy asked.
“That’s the skeleton,” I said. Four stories of open steel structure, roofed but incomplete.
“What happened?”
“The contractor split, I guess. Promises-promises; and it may get torn down,” I said.
“So much potential,” the guy commented.
“Well maybe,” I said; “but it remains unfinished. The north end of this lake may already be overdeveloped.”
It was clearing, so we walked to the eastern extremity, and then back. By then the couple was out at the end of a long open pier kissing. “Give ‘em a year,” I thought to myself; “and they’ll divorce.”
Well, I hope not. 44&1/2 years married to the best friend I ever had. How she put up with me that long I don’t know. She told me it was because I could make her laugh.
“How come every vacation involves trains?” she’d ask.
I’m a railfan. “Better he chase trains than other women.”

• My new dog, “Killian,” is a “rescue Irish-setter.” He’s nine, and is my seventh Irish-Setter, a very lively dog. A “rescue Irish setter” is usually an Irish Setter rescued from an abusive home, a puppy-mill, or perhaps its owner died. (Killian was a divorce victim.) By getting a rescue-dog I avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. — Killian was fine. He’s my fifth rescue.
• The “Canandaigua Lady” is a diesel-powered replica of steamboats that once plied Canandaigua lake. It uses a large rear paddle-wheel to propel itself, and has long smokestacks atop just like old steamboats. It makes charter lake cruises.
• I’m more inclined to think the contractor split because he wasn’t getting paid. The developer may have been stretched too thin.