Getting Rusty

I made the most amazing visit to the hospital today and came home with a thank you note from my five nurses, all RN’s and one over sixty.  Most of the staff was Asian and I was able to practice my brutal Korean, I say brutal, because I can speak more than I understand.

The hospital was in Tacoma and the cleanest of all three in which I have had surgery.  Sister Molly was doing the driving and as we pulled into the small loop in front of the emergency room, I let my little Jack Russell jump out to relieve himself and with that he headed for the busiest part where all the people are waiting to be picked up or there, because of some emergency and Duffy was doing his dam’dest to jump up and greet every person in that room including staff and the policeman that was trying to catch him.  He wouldn’t come to me, I had to grab him when I could, a unique way to be checking in to a hospital for surgery on my unspeakable parts.

And that wasn’t the end of the story of Duffy running around in a crowd of young people after an accident.  Several years ago, a bus driver blacked out and collided with a 21 year old woman coming the other way.  Driving south from Burton was closed and we had to drive over the hill and come back to the highway at Shawnee.  There were 30 or 40 kids all standing around waiting for another bus to take them away, when the cop stopped us at the barrier and Duffy jumped through an open window and headed for the crowd.  After having done this thing before, I’m sure that Duffy’s message to those in obvious need was purely from his heart:  “everything was going to be alright and not to worry.”

After my surgery, and back in the parking lot, Duffy became fearfully thirsty and drank most the plastic container from the palm of my hand.  I learned this from pheasant hunting when all your information is transmitted through a dog’s actions, such as the speed with which our Springer spaniel, Boots would wag her tail, which speed would indicate to the hunter whether the trail was cold or hot.

Duffy goes everywhere with me and is always picking up sticks that are longer and weigh half as much as he does.  It’s very interesting the pride he takes in carrying something bigger than he is.  All the terriers think they are ten feet tall.

Sean@vashonloop.com