I was walking with Rex along the greenway, looking around me at the scenery. Rex stopped to sniff and I took that opportunity to really embrace the zen of the moment, noticing the swelling buds on the tree, the rushing of the creek, the beauty and glory of nature. After a moment, I realized we had been standing there for longer than a normal sniff. I glanced down at Rex to see him smelling a large dead rat.

How the rat shuffled off this mortal coil was a mystery, as it did not seem injured in any way, other than being dead, and how it came to be lying in the middle of a very wide walkway was also a significant unknown. Prior to my reverie about the wonder of the natural world, I had been listening to a podcast episode about the book 1984. The hosts had just gotten to the part about Winston and the cage full of rats, and I did wonder, absently, if I had somehow caused this dead rat to materialize with my own thoughts. Am I manifesting dead animals now? Am I moving them onto the walking path with my mind?

In addition to the horror and the question about manifestation, I also had gratitude, as I hurried Rex away, for two things: a) that Rex isn’t Barkley, who would have surely eaten the rat, and b) that this didn’t happen earlier in the week, when we had a leash mishap.

On Monday – Rex’s fifth birthday – we had an incident which was much less psychologically traumatizing, but significantly more painful physically. We were walking along when I saw approaching us a gentleman I have seen many times before, accompanied by his very reactive dog. Rex is generally either friendly or disinterested when we encounter another dog, unless that dog is reactive, at which point he becomes Giant Angry Rex.

So I brought him in close to me. I use a waist leash, so I can really put my body weight into controlling 102 fuzzy pounds. I started speaking softly to him as we started to pass, and probably it would have been fine had the other dog not suddenly lunged towards us, snarling and snapping. Rex lunged back and at that moment, the clasp of his leash broke, and the sudden release caused me to catapult backwards, not unlike a cartoon character. I landed, full force, on my right sitz bone, halfway down the slope off of the walking path.

It was kind of a disaster. The man called out Sorry! Are you okay? but couldn’t help me, because his dog was going bananas, and now Rex was loose. Fortunately, the man hurried away and Rex realized I was down for the count. He sat beside me, Lassie-like, until I could get back on my feet. If I had landed slightly differently, I likely would have fractured my tailbone, but as it was, I just bruised myself. It reminded me of the strength-training adage thick thighs save lives in terms of staving off osteoporosis, but in this case it was juicy booty to the rescue. Since it happened so quickly, I didn’t try to break my fall, which was fortunate, as in breaking my fall I would have probably broken, or at least sprained, my wrist.

Another issue now arose. The clasp, which was probably slowly wearing out over time, was completely broken on Rex’s leash, and now we were halfway through a 5km loop. I couldn’t really have him unleashed, so I had to jerry-rig his leash around his harness and hope for the best. If he had pulled – or encountered any kind of dead animal, rat or similar – my tenuous hold on him would probably have, like hell, broken loose.

Of course I immediately purchased a new leash the moment we got home.

Between a flare of plantar fasciitis in my right foot and an extremely sore right sitz bone, it’s been a bit of a painful week. The seated part of my yoga practice has been tricky, to say the least! But it’s a vindication for strength training, which I hate, but do grudgingly for my bone health. I guess I’ll keep at it, grimly lifting and lunging and doing all those boring things, just in case I end up flying through the air again.

Weekly Reading

After rereading The Age of Innocence, I realized that I had never read The House of Mirth! I think it is the best Wharton – it follows Lily Bart, a woman whose face is truly her fortune, and who keeps trying to punch above her weight, socially-speaking. It’s a brilliant illustration of the plight of the woman without independent means, and how marriage was, ultimately, an economic decision. I really loved this dramatic depiction of the downfalls associated with not marrying wealth while young and beautiful, and how Lily’s worth was, ultimately, tied up in her appearance and social standing.

I went to get the mail this weekend, and what awaited me there could have knocked me over with a tiny feather quill.

My dear friend Michelle (HI MICHELLE) had sent me her Jane Austen figurine! And because such a lady cannot travel unaccompanied, she was escorted by these two fellows:

I don’t actually feel worthy of such generosity, but I will take care of her – and the gnomes – with all my heart. Thank you, Michelle! What a lovely, unexpected joy!

I can hardly believe that we are at the end of March – I hope it’s lamb-like for all of you. Take care, friends. xo