Lightside

Print

E-mail

Text

It had been two weeks since my medications were changed. The new batch, some three or four pills depending on the day, were small, easy to take. Not the horse-pill-size wafers, which must be minced, washed down with a gallon of water.

For all that my suspicions were aroused. Were the new dosages working or where they simply causing illusions? Much like a placebo or smile from the boss. In any case it seemed that my eyes were definitely off-kilter.

Following my morning ritual of strangling the alarm clock, I shuffled toward the kitchen only to find my dog Riley blocking the way. He refused to move on command. Instead he lay on his back and exercised. Odd? Definitely.

It seemed that he was riding an invisible stationary bicycle. His long back legs pumped and wheeled in unison as he rode. A starry glaze gave his eyes a far away look and his tongue hung out. Had he been drinking and suffering a doggy hangover?

Now I worry about my pets and fell to my knees beside him only to be ignored. His legs kept pumping, pumping, pumping. He did not respond to a touch and only the rattling of his dish caused a brief stay in the eternal thrashing of his back limbs.

Just when I was about to call the roving veterinarian, a drop-in-and-fix-it-take-your-money-and-run-specialist, Riley stopped, rolled over and began to do pushups.

That was too much. Exercise in any form tends to cause me to sweat and seek a dark place to hide. After a while he changed his routine and I emerged only to nearly be knocked off my feet. He was now dashing up and down the hall, doing laps I suppose.

"He's a lot like you, you know," said my spouse as the dog flashed by. "Thinks he is still a pup."

With that she commenced making porridge adding in apple, blueberry and such. Still tastes like wallpaper glue to me, but I dare not admit it.

"So," says I. "What is he doing and why?"

"Spring," was all she said. "Spring!"

Now a wise man would eat his glue, excuse me, porridge and stay quiet. I am not wise. "Spring," I queried. "Spring!"

Even men know and understand that the turning of a season, the rebirth of a given time in the annual cycle can generate and stir latent thoughts. This time of the year for sure. Rabbits go mad, sheep make lambs and, well, most creatures get a touch romantic.

That seemed to be Riley's motivation. After a winter of lazing about gathering dust and eating everything he can, he now wants to get in shape. Hence the bicycle riding, pushups, dashes and all.

Such dedication is to be admired, even emulated. Even if it means getting up at 6.30 a.m. to go to the gym and sweat. My wife thinks I should. But is it necessary? I mean Riley is not a pup and this is the first spring he has engaged in this madness.

Whether my medications are working is hardly important at the moment. After all I am still writing and snoring. It is my dog's mental state that is in question.

I think his memory has lapsed. He was neutered while a puppy. So his look good for the park idea is sadly flawed.

Guess I should have the birds and bees talk with him.