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Well, you are definitely getting requisite exercise, Max. A tale, indeed. I think you’re noble just to walk yourself up those stairs… Doug On Aug 12, 2015, at 8:11 AM, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote: > The pet stroller came urgently > in a pack from Amazon - > where else? I lugged the box > up three flights of stairs, > folded out the frame, fitted > > three wheels, played like a kid > with the cute bike-tyre pump. > I pressed the wrappings > deep into the carton > and disposed of it. > > Why our need? our Lift > (by Krupp!) had gone kaput. > Our post-op Lab was coming > back from hospital, > weak and stiff and Not > to go on stairs, up or down. > > First we tried with Pink, > the younger Lab - do take > a ride. No way! she squirmed! > she could tell it was unsafe, > undignified, unLabrador. > > What this in the instructions? > Do Not Use on Stairs. Shush, > while the Elevator stays Kaput, > we have no choice, down or up. > Bring home the dog - we’ll see. > > He came, we sniffed the dead > elevator door and then the stair. > Here a strong human should bundle > the needy creature in his arms, > carrying him up three flights, > > however slowly. We three stared, > none of us strong, and lifted > slow feet up one stair, two, > three...to the first landing. > That wasn’t too bad! > > Take a breather, a few steps, > another breather. This is OK. > Along to the flat door, home. > Rest, everybody, while Pink > enjoys the overdue reunion. > > So convalescence passes, > each day a little stronger. > So the elevator firm > slowly solves its problems. > Health returns together > > in dog and elevator. > That leaves a smart virgin > pet-stroller. I wheel it over > to the apartment office. > They’d said in this emergency > > they’d bear the cost. Park it > in a corner, I suggest, till > the next emergency, when > dogs and humans call: > we need that stroller now. Douglas Barbour [log in to unmask] Recent publications: (With Sheila E Murphy) Continuations & Continuation 2 (UofAPress). Recording Dates (Rubicon Press). Done in by creation itself. I mean the gods. Not us. Well us too. The gods moved into books. Who wrote the books? We wrote the books. In whose dream, then are we dreaming? Robert Kroetsch.