Rusty likes to hang out outdoors and at home on Cudjoe he gets to come and go as he likes with his dog door and no fences. The wild street dog still lives inside my little brown bundle of joy. Consequently after we took a Frankenstein walk (me hobbling behind my walker) around the apartment complex I sat at the bench, chained to the wall for some reason, insurance or safety I suppose, and let him curl up in the sun. Funny little dog.
Eventually my bladder dictated a departure and when the bladder calls I have to listen because quick is not in my vocabulary for the moment. I am happy that I can get to the toilet but quick responses to stimuli are laughably impossible so at the first twinge I start planning my moves. Rusty wasn't best pleased but he was on the end of the leash and had no choice. The good news is I have figured out how to bend down safely behind my walker and pick up his dog eggs. No more putting out markers when he takes a shit and directing Layne to pick them up later. We walk and each go to the toilet in our own way and place, and each leave no trace.
The walk and his pain pill for his still healing tendon set Rusty to stretching out on the bed and snoring. I left the sliding doors open on the balcony as the air was lovely and cool but he decided he needed a nap first. I drove myself out of the apartment. I've attached a rubber Theraband to the door handle so I grab it as I go and slam the door shut behind me while in motion. It's very slick and means I don't have to stop and stagger to the door and close it while standing up. I am smart.
Then off up the sidewalks to Searstown where the therapy gym is located. On the way I met a bunch of people on bicycles and as they are faster than me usually I let them go ahead. Then of course they crowded the cross walk and instead of zipping away riding they walked their sodding bicycles like a funeral cortège leaving me trailing along behind in the roadway as the lights went to green as they continued to amble slowly and spread out. I lived to tell the tale and that's all that mattered.
These two were Europeans I'm sure of it. Americans leap when they see a cripple and make sure I can get past. European visitors look at me like I should have the decency to stay home out of sight instead of embarrassing their youth and fitness on the streets. Another reason to prefer living in these complicated United States. Heaven forbid you become disabled over there and have to negotiate medieval streets and attitudes.
Besides if you live around here instead of snow you get to see this as you ride to physical therapy:
Of course every paradise has it's serpent and around here house prices have gone mad. To rent a two bedroom one bath house with pool and pool house on Duck Avenue takes $3700 plus all the frills like utilities and food and fuel. In a town where the pay scales are abysmally low for many jobs.
And accessibility isn't always what it should be. I opened the elevator back at the apartment complex and found this sign of some aggravating ambulatory person who couldn't be bothered to ride down and put the cart away. I had to figure it out but I managed to pull it out and put it in its place and get my ride upstairs.