The time has come for me to use a cane when I walk on uneven ground or in crowds. Mysterious medical issues allowed me to walk for 2-3 miles on a flat road. But, when I stepped in soft sand on the beach at Bandon, down I went. That's when I knew it was time.
The Husband and I went to a Specialty Wood Shop in LaConner and I bought the perfect cane made of brown twisted oak. I tried it in the store and loved it immediately. That would take care of my everyday needs just fine.
I also needed a walking stick for walking on uneven country lanes, beaches or trails. So I sought help from the Local Oracle, an eccentric older-than-dirt 83-year-old man I've loved for decades. The incomparable Dick Dixon, a Science teacher in Mount Vernon for so long that he's had everyone in town in his class at one time or another.
Mr. Dixon, came over to lend me his favorite walking stick. It looked like a long shovel handle for a giant, with his name burned into the wood. A sweet gesture, but it's just not the look I was after.
You see ... I invited The Husband (aka Pete or RG) on a two-night romantic get-away at this beautiful place on a near-by island that I found on VRBO (Vacation Rental by Owner). I loved it from the moment I saw it. The "Cottage" is pictured below:
Privacy, gardens, king suite and river rock fireplace. Trails along the bluff over-looking Puget Sound and down onto the beach.
The Husband, however, said "No." He didn't want to go with me.
Oh well ... so much for late blooming romance. It was merely a temporary set-back. I was going to spend two nights in that lovely place come hell or high water.
All I needed was a walking stick so I could walk the trails by myself, without falling and breaking something, only to remain undetected until the Spring Thaw. And the engraved shovel handle offered by my old friend was not my style for this adventure.
So today I also bought a walking stick that suits me perfectly. It's distinctly different, sturdy, made with twisted sweet gum wood, with a nifty loop that goes around your wrist so it doesn't slip away. It is perfect!
This memorable day got off to a rocky start when our 9 1/2 year-old bunny, Zoey, fell over this morning and had to struggle to get back on her feet. Oh no! Not our sweet Zoey!
I called the vet immediately and got an appointment at 2:00. Then The Husband (RG to the Bunny Peeps) told me I had to go alone because he chose instead to attend a trivial meeting of a group that accomplishes nothing that he is not even a member of. What?! (WTF? actually ...)
Did this mean RG was not going to hold sweet Zoey in his arms in the car while I drove us to the vet? Apparently not! I had to take her in the cold wire carrier that I have on hand. I knew she would be afraid, but ... "It is what it is," I told her. This time it was going to be just Zoey and me.
Some nice man helped me into the vet's office and set her carrier on a table between two chairs. I could see poor Zoey shaking and afraid of the 20 lb. office black cat glaring at her, and the unruly boxer straining at the leash to get a closer look at my sweet girl.
Inside the exam room, the vet said her heartbeat was 310 instead of 250 because of her fear in the cage, instead of being in the comforting arms and hearing the voice of RG -- the one who chose to abandon her.
She got a steroid injection and two different meds in the hopes that whatever caused her to fall over could be healed before it got any worse. We just have to wait and see. That's when the vet told me about the correlation between the age of rabbits and people based on the life expectancy of both rabbits and large dogs (over 90 pounds).
That means The Princess is 93; Zoey is 76; Racer and Benji are 68; and Chico is 61. Residents of the Geriatric House of Rabbits, captured in pictures and cute write-ups by RG, and run by BL (that would be me). Yes, folks, the secret is out.
Anyway, Zoey and I got help out to the car. She's home and doing fine so far, being consoled for all she endured by her partner, Chico. RG came home for 5 minutes, then left for another meeting. Meanwhile, tomorrow Zoey starts on a regime of three daily doses of two different meds.
She'll make it, though. Zoey and I learned today that we're both tough and determined, and neither of us needs RG anymore.