Miffy, our adorable little fluffball, rules our later lives. We had been determined to have a dog-free retirement, but you know how these things can change; we dropped our guard, just the once, and she moved in! That was nine years ago and our Shih Tzu lives ‘…the life of Riley.’
It is Tuesday, an hour after breakfast; Miffy and I are riding the elevator downstairs for her morning exercise. Just the two of us at Level 9. On her lead, she has her favourite plastic toy in her mouth: off-lead, I have my walking stick, my woollen beanie, pulled firmly down, a thick overcoat and wet weather boots. We are both ready for the elements outside.
There is a brief hesitation as I cross the foyer to the elevator – the bathroom – to be, or not to be – you know those little gut ripples – I make a Captain’s Pick, things will be fine until we return!
The door slowly opens, an invitation to journey. In we go, Miffy wriggles in anticipation, a couple of short, sharp barks, and then she scrapes the carpet – I know the signs, we definitely need to get a move on!
The doors close with the usual thump, a couple of bounces and down we go. Opps, maybe I should have taken a detour before we left. Things are brewing; Miffy’s wriggles are becoming more intense, and I am certainly sharing some of her discomfort. I take a gamble and relieve just a little pressure. At that moment, we stop at Level 3.
The doors open to Janet’s serene, morning face. Miffy barks, I squirm, the doors close. Janet covers her gagging by facing the wall and starts urgently pressing the button. The lift doors obligingly move, she manically inserts her hands to move the doors quicker.
I adopt my sternest voice and, to Janet’s back, loudly berate Miffy. I inwardly acknowledge a decorous failure and wonder if my indiscretion will be brought up at the Village meeting later that afternoon.
I see Janet in the foyer a few hours later. I approach, intending to explain Miffy’s diet, but she glares at me and passes on. I decide it’s best to leave digestive discussions alone, and I make my way to the cafe.
Over coffee, I spend some quiet time musing over this morning’s encounter. I note the invaluable lesson from having the dog with you during morning lift excursions. While they may not provide an immutable cover for an accidental zinger, they certainly raise the possibility of doubt and/or blame – a legal defence!
On Wednesdays, I share a gym session with Janet. I take great delight noting her slightly strangled backdoor burp, loosed during her squats and her evident embarrassment. I acknowledge our shared humanity – it happens in the best of circles. She immediately leaves the workout.
Janet remains a little cool. But I sense an emerging détente, an understanding of our aging weaknesses, to be avoided, wherever possible, but accepted as a reality.