10-01-2014, 06:29 PM
I am now officially a Lynch.
I know we were married almost seven months ago, but today I am sure that I am officially a Lynch.
When Greg is around, he takes the dogs for their morning walk, and five days a week he comes with me on the afternoon walk. Twice a week, I do the afternoon walk by myself and I usually take one dog at a time, because being of small stature and limited upper body strength, controlling two Aussies, one full-size and one rather over-sized, is a bit much for me, especially if a timid dog walks by us. I can handle one at a time with almost no problems. While Greg has been gone, I've been taking the dogs for both their morning and afternoon walks, and as I'm enjoying my third cold/flu bug of this year, I've been taking them together so that I'm not completely exhausted. We've done really well, too, up until this afternoon.
This afternoon, the girls and I began our afternoon walk. Rather than take usual Wednesday path down Latrobe and into the park (there's one particular dog that lives in a house on Latrobe, a dog that Maeve and Dani hate with a passion, and I know I'd have trouble controlling them if we ran into her), so I took them to the park via the gate on Roberta.
We begin walking down the narrow path down the hill into the park. I have the leash handles around each wrist and one extra loop of leash in each hand for maximum control. As all as been going well, I am also listening to a podcast playing on my iPhone as we walk.
All of a sudden, the dogs stop and don't move further. I look around to see what's got their attention and see a big coyote. Not the biggest one I've ever seen and it wasn't closer to us than a coyote has ever been, but it was definitely large and close.
This is where the Lynch kicks in. "I should take a picture," I think. I don't have a real camera, but of course I do have my iPhone. And although I rarely take good pictures with it, it's just possible I might get something worth posting. So, I take the iPhone out of my shorts pocket, pause the podcast, open the camera app, and of course, that's the moment when Dani and Maeve decide it is necessary to go play with the coyote. Both of them launch forward, racing down the hill as fast as they can.
When they're with their father, he trusts them to come back to his call, and so he allows them off leash. I, of course, do not have this same confidence, because all three of us are perfectly aware that he's the alpha, not me, and they do NOT respond to me calling for them, regardless of what treats I might have brought. So, I'm still attached to Dani and Maeve by the wrists.
It's a pity there was no one filming this; further proof of my Lynchness, that I'm thinking this as I'm being dragged face-first down the hill by my girls. As I'm dragged down and around the corner and half-way up the next hill, collecting foxtails, burrs and lots and lots of dirt, I imagine that it would make one heck of a funny YouTube video.
Eventually the girls stop. I rescue the earbuds that got ripped out of my ears and fairly quicly find the iPhone that got dropped. I extract a few dozen foxtails and burrs out of my shorts, shirt and hair, and admire the road rash and rapidly swelling bruise on my left hip and knee, and the interesting lump on the knuckle my left pinky, wondering if perhaps it's broken. Naaa, it doesn't hurt that much.
I brush myself off and continue the walk. The girls, of course, make several more attempts to go after the coyote, but I manage to keep them in check. When we get to the first clearing in the park, I see there's no one around, so I take the girls to a bench, sit down and take an iPhone picture of the road rash on my hip. After all, if it doesn't get posted on Facebook, it's like it didn't happen, right?
Yes, my first thought for the entire process was, I should get pictures, and my biggest disappointment is not the collection of injuries (when I got home, I found a few more scrapes and bruises), but that the only shot I got was of the road rash. I don't think I need to go to the emergency room, but if I thought I did, I'd drive myself. Yeah, I think I qualify as a Lynch now.
Now where's the Neosporin? Oh yeah, in the garage. We last used it on one of the feral cats. I wonder if Buddy, our far-too-frequent oppossum visitor, is guarding it?
I know we were married almost seven months ago, but today I am sure that I am officially a Lynch.
When Greg is around, he takes the dogs for their morning walk, and five days a week he comes with me on the afternoon walk. Twice a week, I do the afternoon walk by myself and I usually take one dog at a time, because being of small stature and limited upper body strength, controlling two Aussies, one full-size and one rather over-sized, is a bit much for me, especially if a timid dog walks by us. I can handle one at a time with almost no problems. While Greg has been gone, I've been taking the dogs for both their morning and afternoon walks, and as I'm enjoying my third cold/flu bug of this year, I've been taking them together so that I'm not completely exhausted. We've done really well, too, up until this afternoon.
This afternoon, the girls and I began our afternoon walk. Rather than take usual Wednesday path down Latrobe and into the park (there's one particular dog that lives in a house on Latrobe, a dog that Maeve and Dani hate with a passion, and I know I'd have trouble controlling them if we ran into her), so I took them to the park via the gate on Roberta.
We begin walking down the narrow path down the hill into the park. I have the leash handles around each wrist and one extra loop of leash in each hand for maximum control. As all as been going well, I am also listening to a podcast playing on my iPhone as we walk.
All of a sudden, the dogs stop and don't move further. I look around to see what's got their attention and see a big coyote. Not the biggest one I've ever seen and it wasn't closer to us than a coyote has ever been, but it was definitely large and close.
This is where the Lynch kicks in. "I should take a picture," I think. I don't have a real camera, but of course I do have my iPhone. And although I rarely take good pictures with it, it's just possible I might get something worth posting. So, I take the iPhone out of my shorts pocket, pause the podcast, open the camera app, and of course, that's the moment when Dani and Maeve decide it is necessary to go play with the coyote. Both of them launch forward, racing down the hill as fast as they can.
When they're with their father, he trusts them to come back to his call, and so he allows them off leash. I, of course, do not have this same confidence, because all three of us are perfectly aware that he's the alpha, not me, and they do NOT respond to me calling for them, regardless of what treats I might have brought. So, I'm still attached to Dani and Maeve by the wrists.
It's a pity there was no one filming this; further proof of my Lynchness, that I'm thinking this as I'm being dragged face-first down the hill by my girls. As I'm dragged down and around the corner and half-way up the next hill, collecting foxtails, burrs and lots and lots of dirt, I imagine that it would make one heck of a funny YouTube video.
Eventually the girls stop. I rescue the earbuds that got ripped out of my ears and fairly quicly find the iPhone that got dropped. I extract a few dozen foxtails and burrs out of my shorts, shirt and hair, and admire the road rash and rapidly swelling bruise on my left hip and knee, and the interesting lump on the knuckle my left pinky, wondering if perhaps it's broken. Naaa, it doesn't hurt that much.
I brush myself off and continue the walk. The girls, of course, make several more attempts to go after the coyote, but I manage to keep them in check. When we get to the first clearing in the park, I see there's no one around, so I take the girls to a bench, sit down and take an iPhone picture of the road rash on my hip. After all, if it doesn't get posted on Facebook, it's like it didn't happen, right?
Yes, my first thought for the entire process was, I should get pictures, and my biggest disappointment is not the collection of injuries (when I got home, I found a few more scrapes and bruises), but that the only shot I got was of the road rash. I don't think I need to go to the emergency room, but if I thought I did, I'd drive myself. Yeah, I think I qualify as a Lynch now.
Now where's the Neosporin? Oh yeah, in the garage. We last used it on one of the feral cats. I wonder if Buddy, our far-too-frequent oppossum visitor, is guarding it?
Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.