There’s a man in our neighbourhood who walked his dog at least twice a day. I would see him each morning as I backed the car out of my driveway and again in late afternoon when I came home. On chilly mornings, he wore a plaid woolen jacket and casual pants and would raise his hand in greeting if he noticed me. When he walked his friend at the end of the day, he was still in his work clothes – shirt and tie and full-length dress coat – and you knew he’d returned home just long enough to grab the leash and head out again.
For the longest time, the dog he so faithfully walked was a small, short-haired, caramel coloured canine with a pointy muzzle and equally pointed ears. If it was bitterly chilly, the dog wore a red knitted sweater. The man vanished for most of this past fall and winter and I wondered if he had moved. He’s recently returned to walking every morning and every evening, but the dog that now trots ahead of him is a black and white Shih Tzu in a red sweater.
I was thinking of the man with his new companion as I took Riley out this evening without Catie – she’s at the vet hospital for her third chemo treatment. It felt strange to walk with just one dog.
It’s hard to believe it will be ten – or is it eleven – weeks this coming Wednesday since Catie had her amputation; three months since her cancer diagnosis. Getting up is a little more difficult for her; she still avoids the stairs to the family room, and she doesn’t hop up on our bed as often as she used to, but all in all she has so easily adapted to the loss of limb, I can hardly remember her having four. Time has a funny way of marching on.
Catie should be home soon.