esrosedotblog

WALKER

I was walking with Franklin on an old trail out to Granada and back; the big loop.

We don't do that one much anymore.

He currently favors anything that loops through the trailer park—sorry—the mobile home club.

We do not have trailer parks in Palm Springs.

He likes this new territory because it is new and also one of his best friends, a terrier mix named Foxy, lives there. She is one of my favorite dogs too.

There are also way more kitties per square foot than anywhere else I have seen and now that bunnies are practically disappeared from our territory kitties are the only blood quarry that a dog can go after.

But, occasionally, once a week or two, we return to the big Granada loop.

You can't abandon good paths entirely. There are old friends and sights and smells to visit and a lot of pee mail to collect and deposit.

We went out there this week and as rounded a corner an old guy came out of his house with a walker, all shaky and slow.

Our trajectories were such that we sort of hit the same spot together.

As I approached, I realized that this was Maurice's walker.

Maurice was this great cockapoodle with bright black eyes and great white hair. He and Franklin were great buddies and would always get up for a visit with skips and jumps.

Maurice was the only dog that I ever saw actually leap about ten feet forward.

I am not kidding.

He was the jumpingest dog.

I had not seen Maurice or his walker for quite awhile. A year? More?

Anyway. This was him. The walker. Not Maurice.

Shrunken. Half with it. He did not recognize me.

He asked if I could get his mail out of the box and put it on the bag on the walker.

I did.

He was kind of curmudgeonly about it.

Somehow I couldn't bring myself to ask if he remembered me or where Maurice was or what had happened.

I just got the mail and put it in and experienced the sour sick sweat smell that comes from lack of bathing and poor health.

Besides Franklin was jumping and trying to get back to the walk and I didn't want to have him in the way.

All that.

It was quite disturbing.

This guy was vital and alive and full of fun the last time I saw him.

Can it happen so suddenly?

All that lost?

I don't often get upset about my aging but every once in awhile I get an eyeful and a warning.

It is a little scary.

But then I realize that I don't have to cross that bridge until I come to it and it might not be on this road at all.

Labels: aging