A Not - So - Lucrative Occupation

I just spent a half hour reading WWG  posts back to the beginning in 2013, so I could mention when last I posted about finding money during walks with Grace. It turns out that I have never written about this phenomenon, which is related to the great American pastime of flinging perfectly good stuff willy nilly onto the ground. I see pennies all the time, but only pick them up if they are pretty clean. Nickels, dimes and quarters are less frequent, and I usually pick them up. Dollar bills come along once in a while - one time I found four - fives are rare, I found a tenspot one time, and then there are twenties.

One of my favorite coincidences happened about two years ago. Grace and I were in Nashville Pet Products, with the usual fuss being made over her, and she led me over to her favorite treats. "Sorry," I said, "I don't have twenty dollars." So we left, went across the street to the field behind the Suntrust ATMs, and she led me directly to a twenty dollar bill lying in the dirt. "Okay already!" I said. We went back and bought treats.

Lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place, but I always look anyway, knowing as I do that there will never be another twenty in the field behind the Suntrust ATMs. Yesterday, lo and behold, there was! And this one isn't earmarked for anything!

Carmen reminded me when I told her about this windfall. The total of money I've found in five and a half years is up around 90 or 95 bucks now. That works out to about 17 bucks a year.

What Do You Suppose Is His Name - O

It has been over six months since my last post on this blog. Walking Grace is pretty routine these days, and pretty much everything that happens has happened before, numerous times. Recently, however, we have a acquired new best friend. In a large subdivision off of Old Harding Pike west of our condo, many dogs are out walking when we walk through.  One afternoon a month or so ago, we came across two dogs running around inside the fenced-in tennis court. Grace, of course, got all excited. I asked the two humans if Grace could play too, and of course they said yes. She entered gleefully and joined the fray, chasing and being chased all around the enclosure. One of the dogs, whose name I don't know, had to leave after a few minutes, but Bingo stayed for another ten or so. They had a grand time chasing and wrestling until it was time to go, as indicated by Grace going to the gate and looking at me. Bingo's mom, whose name I don't know, said she hoped Grace would come play again, because Bingo would be sleeping through the day now. Little did she know our dear bassador.

It wasn't more than a week later that Grace led me into Belle Pointe, not unusual, and by the most direct route to the tennis court. We went inside, and she sat down, looking expectantly in the direction Bingo had gone after their prior encounter. We were there, her sitting and I standing, for a good ten minutes, also not unusual, when suddenly she stood up, tail wagging madly. Bingo's mom had come out for a smoke. I waved, Grace wagged, and she went back inside for Bingo. They romped.

Since then, we have bypassed the tennis courts and gone straight to Bingo's door at least once a week, accelerating to three and four times a week of late. One morning she lay on Bingo's front porch for twenty minutes before I convinced her to give it up. Since then, at Carmen's urging, we no longer camp out on the porch, but we have had pretty good luck finding Mom out smoking. This morning her son came out to go to work just as we  arrived.

It has been two and a quarter years since Grace last had a best friend. It's nice to see her so happy.

Ah, There's Good News Tonight

Those of y'all who know me, either in person or from reading my stuff - or both - know that one of the things that drive me batshit crazy about humans is that they fling trash everywhere. Not all of them (us), to be sure, but enough for there to be visible trash almost anywhere you look. Hell, I did a brilliant slide show on the subject in Communications class in 1970. It's the biggest one of my numerous pet peeves. Yes, even bigger than the bastardization of the apostrophe!

So this afternoon I was walking my girl home from Red Caboose Park when I saw at a great distance a battery powered kiddie car coming along the sidewalk, with a little kiddo driving and an adult human walking behind. Then I saw the little one climb out of the car, run a little ways across the field, then run back to the car and drive a short distance. This process was repeated several times, and as we got closer, I could see that the little girl was running to pick up pieces of trash, and depositing them in the garbage bag carried by her dad! When we got close enough, I said "Wow, that's really nice!" He said "She has to earn her trip to the park." I'm guessing she will grow up to be one of us humans who do not fling trash everywhere.

I just love a juicy bit of good news, don't you?

"Jimmy's In The Well!!"

I bought a new cell phone this afternoon. I bought a new cell phone because my previous cell phone went into Flat Creek. My previous cell phone went into Flat Creek while I was struggling to pull myself out of the tangle of vines on the bank of Flat Creek.

There is a huge culvert that carries Flat Creek under the six lanes of Old Hickory Boulevard where it intersects with US 70 South. From the concrete top of the culvert to the actual creek measures about ten feet. And the water is pretty deep there, maybe two feet deep - a lot for Flat Creek.

So, Grace was leading me along, as usual, and she hopped up onto the concrete. I followed, but as I flung my weight forward to propel me to the top of the concrete, a vine caught my right foot. I overbalanced and fell head first on my back down the steep bank. The tangle of vines cushioned my fall, and thankfully, I was not hurt at all. But there I was, upside down on my back, tangled in vines, resting on...what? Dirt? Rock? Just vines? I couldn't tell. My feet and about half of my calves were above ground level, against the concrete top of the culvert - not enough to gain any leverage. Grace could have pulled me out, but she was too busy looking down at me quizzically and whining. And she grabbed some vines and pulled them, to no effect.

I grabbed hold of some vines and tried to pull myself up, with a little help from my feet. I inched upward little by little, but then the vines pulled out of the ground or broke, and I slid back down deeper than I had been. I stopped struggling for a few minutes, resting and thinking. I was seriously tempted to call 911 but I wasn't ready to give up yet. Meanwhile, Grace began barking a high-pitched panicky bark and looking around for someone to help me. I'm sure that if I had let go of the leash she would have gone for help. Unfortunately, she has no clue that vehicles are dangerous, and at that particular intersection, more dangerous than most. I held on, and she barked her "Timmy's in the well!" bark.

At last I decided that all I could do was try to turn over and push myself up to a position where I could grab hold of something - anything!- and claw my way out of there. Of course, if all that was holding me were vines, then into the drink I'd go. But hanging upside down was only marginally better than that. I flailed around, twisting my body until I had an arm in a position to push. I pulled my legs down, pushed up with my left arm and pulled on vines with my right, and miracle of miracles, I was able to stand myself up. I clawed my way up the bank, and had a grateful reunion with Grace. We had been separated for about fifteen minutes! Then I checked my pockets. Everything was still there except my cell phone.

I bought a new cell phone this afternoon.

Back To The Creek

Flat Creek has been a central character in the stories of our walks ever since we came to  Nashville. It flows (or not) through almost every journey we undertake. I inserted the parenthetic disclaimer in the preceding statement because, for three months during this past summer we had virtually no rain, and the creek was dry in many places. Strangely, to me anyway, it flowed normally in many other places. This told me that it flowed underground in the dry places - a phenomenon with which I was previously unfamiliar. Another consequence of the drought was the scarcity of water deep enough for bassador swimming during the blistering hot months of summer.

A couple of weeks ago, the rains finally came, bringing white water to Flat Creek. Grace was smart enough to stay out of the raging current, wading only in the calmer sections. Cooler weather accompanied the rains, so swimming wasn't a concern anyway.

This morning we were on the homeward stretch when she pulled me down to a section of the creek we've never explored before. The water was calm and deep there. I said, "Too bad it's so chilly today or you could go swimming." She looked at me, smiled and went swimming. Just when I think I've figured her out...

Patience Unbecoming

We're hoping that the blistering hot weather is behind us now for this year. Carmen likes to go walking with us when the weather is cool enough. Yesterday, our 30th anniversary, was just such a morning. After our coffee and exchange of hugs and memories, we determined that we would go to Edwin Warner dog park. Carmen still had to get ready, and Grace was getting anxious, so we decided that I would walk her to the entrance of our subdivision, and Carmen would drive down and meet us there.

We suited up and set out. I half expected to have to fight with Grace about turning left toward the entrance because she usually wants to go right toward wilder environs. My half-expectation was half right. She didn't want to go left. She didn't want to go right. She didn't want to go forward. She turned around and sat down, watching the door.  For about five minutes she sat there. Then, in a totally unprecedented move, she went to the door and asked to go in. We entered, and Grace led me through the house until she found Carmen. She barked her "snap it up" bark, then led me back outside where she sat down and waited, perfectly calm, until Carmen came out to join us.

There are those who argue that dogs can't reason. They should try walking with Grace.

Ring Of Bright Water

There is a creek that flows through Bellevue with access points nearly everywhere we walk. We have gone for a drink and/or a swim near Old Hickory Boulevard, and at a dozen more places between there and Sawyer Brown Road, nearly three miles west as the creek winds. We have seen common water snakes, snapping turtles, ducks, great blue herons and deer along what the map calls Flat Creek. This afternoon we hit the jackpot.

Grace led me down to Flat Creek at the access point nearest our condo. On these hot summer days, she likes to go for a swim, or at least a deep wade, at the beginning of the 90+ degree afternoon walk. She went right in, wading as deep as the shallow water would let her. I always look for snakes and snappers before I let her go in, and it was all clear. She was wading upstream, where the water gets deeper, so I looked ahead for anything dangerous. There was a major disturbance of the surface about thirty feet ahead, like I had never seen in this creek. A muskrat? A beaver? I pulled Grace onto dry land, and we walked over to the disturbed place. I didn't expect to see whatever it was. I figured it had gone into its hidey hole under the bank or somewhere out of sight. I certainly didn't expect to see one of my all-time favorite mammals, a river otter, cavorting in the water. There it was, chasing the little fish and otherwise frolicking underwater! We watched, mesmerized. The otter came up for air, saw us, and hissed at us, baring its sharp pointed teeth, then went back down, making its way further upstream and away from us. We watched it out of sight around the bend.

Great. Now I'll be disappointed every time we go to an otter-free creek access.