a sorry tale continued

 

 

Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra ‘news flashes’

 

Sunday October 1st 2017

 

Despite her assault on poor George, S. and R. have generously continued to take Isis on a lovely long walk to Kings Heath Park and back each weekday. R. said that she and Isis are getting to know each other’s ways now and that they had a very nice dance on Friday. Hairy One obviously loved it and came back bursting with pleasure.

She’s not had walks over the weekend nor has she been able to play in the horribly muddy garden, but she has been a very co-operative little dog. Yesterday afternoon while I was spread out resting my wayward limbs on the futon, she played by herself for hours, leaping up and down on the mat, swinging snakes and bears around. Every fifteen minutes or so there was a tremendous crash as a creature was smashed against the futon, but at least she was enjoying herself, dear little thing.

Now back to the sorry tale, the cause of poor Hairy One’s walkless weekend  ….

 

Episode 2: The Fence

 

A few days after carrying the architect’s plan chest upstairs, I set off to Wales to visit Polymath.

Along one side of her garden, on top of a two foot wall, is a four foot fence made of heavy vertical planks. Soon after I arrive, her neighbour explains that the fence, which is Polymath’s  responsibility, has come away from the wall and is dangerous. Because the houses are only a few hundred yards from the sea, the winds can be extremely fierce, blowing dustbins and heavy pots around the yards.

Polymath is disabled and impecunious, so I merrily offer to demolish the fence.

I saw it into four sections about six foot long, carrying each section across the garden and leaning it up against the old shed.

It is a struggle. I should have sawn the sections in half again.

The hardest part is heaving each section from the top of the wall without knocking myself unconscious. I have to lift the wood high above my head in order to free it from its base so both arms are stretched upwards as far as they can go.

As the weight causes me to sink into the soil well above my ankles, I congratulate myself. I am delighted that I can still achieve such feats.

Fool.

The work is done in less than two hours and everything cleared away. True, my right shoulder aches a bit next day but not enough to stop me driving home.

Over the following six or eight weeks, the shoulder becomes more and more painful until, eventually, I am virtually driving with my left hand only. After a week or so of this, the pain becomes excruciating and I can no longer drive.

A scan reveals that I have torn one tendon attached to my right shoulder across its width and displaced a second one.

My GP also thinks that the shoulder might be dislocated.

Because of the extent of the damage, I am advise to wear a sling full time.

I do but after about twenty four hours my left hand has swollen to the size of a small boxing glove and is very painful.

Oh dear. Two upper limbs out of action, two feet to go.

 

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk

This entry was posted in Kings Heath Park, relationship building, walking my deaf/blind dog and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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