The Time of Used To Be

  Memory jolted by the last time I recall walking in deep snow:

     It seems like a very long time ago, but really not that long after all. Back in the day, when the world was still young, Cosmo liked looking at birds, and squirrels. That is, when he wasn't going on walks with Dave, at least three times a day, or riding in the car with him, or sleeping in the living room. Unlike our first two collies, who shared our life with kids, and were therefore not nearly as indulged plus they were very large and thick-coated and were not comfortable being inside the house so they were pretty much relegated to  the doghouse. 

    But not Cosmo. When he wasn't in the house or the car or on walks, his domain was the basement. Dave had attached a very long wire from the doorway to a tree at the end of our property. And he put a stopper near the end and hung a birdfeeder on the closed-off wire. Cosmo could walk a long distance around the yard and yet sit in the doorway and observe the wildlife. Sad to say, Cosmo's life ended much too soon. The veterinarian had failed one year to test him for heartworm, and he contracted the dread disease, resulting in  a long and intensive course of treatment. He recovered but developed symptoms which the vet one bright summer day tried  to alleviate by withdrawing fluid from his chest. Dave drove him home, and Cosmo lay down in the yard and never awoke. But....the birdfeeder was still there, at the end of the dog run.

   Dave still fed the birds, even in summertime, but especially in winter. And one winter, he had developed symptoms which made him feel somewhat unsteady on his feet. Even a well-regarded neurologist, Dr. V., was at a loss to explain his symptoms.  (Clearing out old paperwork, from 2014,  I found his diagnosis, all systems in perfect working order.)  

   But the symptoms were not to be denied.  So one winter after a heavy snowfall, I decided it was time to relocate the bird feeder to a more accessible location, i.e. the front yard. And here's where today's jaunt kicked in the memory of that event.

      I walked around the outside of the house, down the slope and I decided to see if the door to the basement was open.  The snow was deep. As I walked toward the doorway, the snow was even deeper, as I soon found. As I carefully put my booted foot in the accumulated snow, my foot sunk so far down that it propelled me forward.   Right into the concrete frame of the doorway. I saw stars. I'm not sure if they were actually stars, but explosions of some kind. I developed a large goose egg on the side of my head. I don't recall if I succeeded in bringing the bird feeder to the front of the house or not, but it's here, so I must have.