West D Street Greenway, Springfield

A new sign has appeared at the entrance of the erstwhile “Willamette River Path.” Which I suppose it still is, but now it has an Official Name. This is far from the most notable occurrence of today’s walk, which was fraught with peril. A man fell off his bike near the canoe put-in. We arrived on the scene soon after the paramedics, who attempted to haul him up off the bike, where he still lay spreadeagled on the ground. We chose not to join the gaggle of rubberneckers, so can’t report on the outcome. Soon after we encountered some broken tree limbs in the the path, in the middle of which was a seething bundle of bees. They were just huddled together on the ground, still traumatized from the fall and wondering what the hell. If all that wasn’t enough, a few minutes later the unicycler passed us. He rides a tall unicycle, maybe five and a half feet, so when he had to dismount at the stoplight, it took him multiple tries to get back on, which he has to do with a kind of running start. Very goofy and with a high likelihood of injury. Excepting a little blistery bit on my left foot, we made it back home without further incident.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

Meadow Park Plus, Springfield

A handful of pretzel nibs and a how can I be so tired droop on the brown chair was all it took to recharge me for an easy walk around the park. The peewee Little League team was out playing catch and one of the dads on the sidelines was tossing a small girl into the air. She seemed to love it, but I just can’t watch this kind of thing. I kept seeing him drop her, her life as a poor crippled child, and his eternal torment. There was another group of young teenage boys on the other side of the park playing basketball and I wondered where are all the girls? What are they doing on this fine afternoon?

Cat poop consumed: yes

 

Island Park, Springfield

My stupid ankle gave way in the middle of the block on C St. and I did the usual embarrassing crumple to the sidewalk, which always startles the dogs. Fortunately no kindly neighbors came running out to make sure I was okay. Of course I was okay, just a doofus with a volleyball injury dating back to the ’80s that surprises me every so often and makes me skin my knees. Maybe it’s time to dig out those rehabilitative exercises I once found. Maybe it’s time to stop wearing the go-go boots when I walk the dogs.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

Island Park, Springfield

Jones woke up groggy with the misery of his dew claw hangnail, which slipped out of its duct tape splint during the night. He lay on his dog bed all shaky and the vet appointment still two long days away. It took me two tries with the little scissors (the first pass made me all queasy, feeling the tendon there) but I snipped it off to a nub. He didn’t make a sound through the whole thing, so I’m going to assume that 1) it didn’t hurt, 2) he wasn’t traumatized, and 3) he won’t hold it against me. We had a very successful walk afterward. He was carefully deploying the magical healing powers of dog spit when I left for work.

Cat poop consumed: no