Tides and Roses

We have it, practically in writing—we’re not going to have a bath for a long time to come. That’s thanks to Joan’s back injury. Whoopie!

Oh, sorry.

I don’t like to see anyone in pain, really. I was just trying to think of the positive aspects of the situation. Besides, it was really Pam who came up with the idea. Pam just had knee surgery, so she is trying to think of affirmative things to say about life and pain. And to help Joan pluck a rose from the thorn bush of life, she said, “Well, at least the dogs won’t have to have another bath for a while.”

Now, on the positive side of the matter for all of us, Joan says it helps to walk, so we’ve be taking slow walks—really slow; I mean a turtle could get around the block three times to our one time. And when I succumb to the old fear-of-noise issue and refuse to walk any farther, Joan hurts too much to pull her leader-of-the-pack-Cesar-Milan maneuver. In fact, she does just the opposite. She pets me and just stands there waiting for my psychological trauma to pass. And, eventually, it does. Sometimes, traumas remind me of the tide. They crash into our lives, do a few back flips, and then, poof, they rush back to the open sea.

Shane is very patient with Joan’s backache and with my trepidation. He just sits and waits. I’m telling you—despite his nervous condition, I think he has Buddha potential.

Best wishes, Juno