Saturday, February 23, 2019

I Don't Walk Alone

It was sleeting as I left for Friday’s dog walk. When we all assembled, we all were of a mind to go back to our homes. But we persevered and the rain let up. 
G. has Dementia and so, for the past few months, her husband, D., comes with us on our doggie walks. Over time, it’s become him with whom I often walk. He’s the only other fellow and he walks, like me, at a brisk pace. And he’s ex-military. Likes attract. Not! There’s no problem for me with that at all, but today he mentioned that Trump was right about the Chinese/American trade imbalance and he differentiats between “native-born” Canadians and immigrants.
He’s an interesting man and I’ve earned a lot from him about our island and the animals that live on it; he pointed out the different tracks of animals in the snow for me. I loved that. He’s honest and open and he’s been naught but very friendly with me, but he’s different than most others I know.
Sheba arrived home filthy so I had to bathe her; she shines now.
By eleven am, the sun was in and out but there was no further precipitation, so Mr. Menopause—that’s the constantly warm, me—went into town for soup supplies. I made squash & ginger soup and a chicken salad sandwich mixture for DR and I to share whilst she’s here. Then I swept the deck and tidied the courtyard before having a rest.
She arrived just before six; we had champagne and got caught up and had the informal dinner I’d made of soup, salad and warm sandwiches and then we both went to bed early.
Today is cloudy but there’s no precipitation and we’ve no plans. The day will unfold as it does.

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