Pets are a doggone good distraction from coronavirus stress
A while ago, my friend Lynn Diehl posted a dog-related video — husband Dan Hilford, with leashes in hand, was taking their three determined, waddling Welsh Corgi canines on a walk.
Eddie, Molly and new-girl-on-the-block Lily were being extraordinarily well behaved as they trotted along. They’re low-set cylindrical packages of love, with short legs and outsized ears. Adorbs, for sure.
Lynn described the walk-about action as being a bit like perambulating with “a school of fish — Corgi fish moving this way and that.”
Now is that a visual, or what?
During these uncertain, unstable, unsettling times, pets have been front and center in many people’s minds, hearts and social-media postings.
No surprise there. After all, what could be better after a long, trying day of social distancing and mask confrontations than snuggling up to a warm, devoted puppy, or having a cat deign to come off its lofty perch to sit on your lap and purr?
If that means there’s a chewed-up slipper, a puddle or a hairball to deal with? No biggie, not when the minute-by-minute payback is all that unconditional love.
Dan’s onto something there, I think, and he’s not alone. We’re seeing lots more people walking with their pets these days.
Cool!
What a delightful, sociable but physically distanced way to get fresh air and exercise. That’s especially important now, during the limitations of the COVID-19 era, with case counts spiking upward and some people returning to their stay-at-home “bubble” for safety.
Other wary folks never left those bubbles.
We know a single senior citizen with some health issues. She’s been working remotely at home ever since the shutdown began. She gets grocery and other items and take-out meals at the curb or delivered. She orders meds and other necessities online.
This gal isn’t a sports person, hiker or cyclist, far from it. In fact, she’s not getting much exercise at all. Her few family members live elsewhere. Her only regular contact with other people is online or by phone.
She’s coping so far in her bubble, but there’s an overlying tinge of depression in her conversations these days.
I think what she really needs is a dog.
The love and licks, the wags and high jinks. And those walks! They’re just what the doctor ordered.
She may have a good reason for not having a pet — allergies, perhaps. Even so, someday I’ll get up my nerve to suggest that she consider going to a shelter, so she can start sharing her home and life with another lonely soul that can become an instant, treasured family member and friend.
Watching Lynn’s video again, my mind instantly ricocheted to a gal whose pets were indeed her second family (as has been the case for many of us).
I remember with deep affection living … and traveling … with my mom and her six tiny teacup poodles.
Yes, six.
Cupcake, Angel, Cookie, Angus, Demitasse and Hillary. Plus the Tanners’ teacup poodle, Meringue.. Each ranging from 2 to 6 pounds apiece.
Oh, my, those pooches were fun! Such individualistic personalities! Such profound senses of humor and the ridiculous.
Such chaos!
My friend Linda Nakamura dubbed the gang’s response to a ringing doorbell as “the flying poodle carpet.”
Looking at Lynn’s picture of her swaying Corgis, I vividly recalled times when Mom, husband Richard, the boys, the poodles and I were on motorhome trips together.
Inevitably, several times a day, one of us had to take those enthusiastic bouncing canine balls for a walk.
Six bundles of energy and curiosity.
Six leashes.
Add two human legs and jerky forward motion, and you’ve got an unbelievable, unfixable braid.
It’s a wonder we didn’t wind up with broken limbs on dogs and humans, but we lucked out. There were occasional scuffed knees and elbows (and more than a few muffled but choice swear words), but no casts required.
Now? Our household bubble revolves around a 94-year-old stroke survivor who walks none-too-steadily with a walker. Sadly, anything that increases his risk of falling, like a frisky pet, just isn’t an option.
And the kind of dog we’d want would be an enthusiastically devoted lap critter. A big man sitting in a wheelchair doesn’t have much lap left over for love.
Of course, we deeply miss our pets. But, we’ll just have to keep sharing the fun vicariously. And when neighborhood dog-walkers and their pals stride past, each of them already knows that the Tanners have a box of Milkbones at the ready, waiting for handouts.
Trade Milkbones for a few moments of licks and love? Such a deal.
