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stoutfellowI have blisters on the soles of my feet: one on the left, two on the right.
Let me back up. This afternoon I had a preliminary appointment with a termite-control man. Around 1:00, when he arrived, I opened the door - and Buster bolted through the doorway. I came through and slammed the door to keep Gracie inside. The termite man offered to help, but I just took off. After a block or so, I realized that I was in my stocking feet; I paused a moment to pull them off, stuff them in my pockets, and resume pursuit.
I pursue because Buster flees; Buster flees because I pursue. Down one block. Up another. Now he's headed into the access road to the Shop'n'Save parking lot, with Highway 159 on the other side.... A car cruises slowly past Buster, then brakes. Buster looks up at it; I think the driver is waving or rapping on the window to attract his attention. Buster slowly circles the car, eyes fixed on the interior. I slip forward, trying not to wheeze too loudly. The driver calls, "Have you got him?" I say nothing, for obvious reasons. Lean, grab! "Have you got him?" "Yes!" "Yeah, I saw him get away from you...." I smile and wave, and begin carrying twenty pounds of none-too-happy dog back home.
The termite man had been cooling his heels all this time. After I returned, we went inside; he inspected the basement and garage, and we talked about options. I told him I'd give him a call in a day or two, and he left.
That was when I realized that my feet hurt. Hot August day, barefoot on blacktop....
Let me back up. This afternoon I had a preliminary appointment with a termite-control man. Around 1:00, when he arrived, I opened the door - and Buster bolted through the doorway. I came through and slammed the door to keep Gracie inside. The termite man offered to help, but I just took off. After a block or so, I realized that I was in my stocking feet; I paused a moment to pull them off, stuff them in my pockets, and resume pursuit.
I pursue because Buster flees; Buster flees because I pursue. Down one block. Up another. Now he's headed into the access road to the Shop'n'Save parking lot, with Highway 159 on the other side.... A car cruises slowly past Buster, then brakes. Buster looks up at it; I think the driver is waving or rapping on the window to attract his attention. Buster slowly circles the car, eyes fixed on the interior. I slip forward, trying not to wheeze too loudly. The driver calls, "Have you got him?" I say nothing, for obvious reasons. Lean, grab! "Have you got him?" "Yes!" "Yeah, I saw him get away from you...." I smile and wave, and begin carrying twenty pounds of none-too-happy dog back home.
The termite man had been cooling his heels all this time. After I returned, we went inside; he inspected the basement and garage, and we talked about options. I told him I'd give him a call in a day or two, and he left.
That was when I realized that my feet hurt. Hot August day, barefoot on blacktop....
