| Humor Non-Fiction posted August 12, 2022 |
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My fun holiday trip with ...
Lincoln
by Wendy G
"He'll be YOUR pet - your very own dog! But just for a week!"
Ian and Sue, life-long friends, knew I wanted a dog. They were attending a family event, and could not take their Golden Labrador. Would I care for him?
"We want this time to be special for Lincoln too. You'll love him - he's gentle and sweet! We have a holiday house nestled into a cliff overlooking a beautiful beach - would you like a short holiday?"
Short-term ownership - but I'd pretend Lincoln was mine! I'd make sure we had fun together. I happily agreed.
We met up at their holiday home; they presented a page of instructions.
Ian's last words before leaving were, "Lincoln is fifteen. He hasn't much time remaining; he's winding down. Please don't get upset if he dies. We're expecting it at any time!" WHAT?!
Our holiday began.
"Lincoln needs reminders to go outside regularly," I read. No problem, despite lots of stairs. I could handle that.
"Lincoln prefers to be hand-fed." WHAT?!
Raw chicken pieces, mostly neck! I tried putting the chicken in his bowl, to no avail. He would not eat. I dangled them in front of him - Lincoln snatched them greedily. Ugh. It nearly made me sick hearing the sound of bones being crunched, watching Lincoln drooling. Yes, Lincoln definitely preferred hand-feeding!
"Lincoln needs and enjoys a daily walk." Excellent. Me too. That would be fun.
We set out, sort of. Their uphill driveway was steep. Half-way up, Lincoln sat down … and started to slide backwards down the driveway. I put my foot behind his bottom as a brake. Impasse.
I finally cajoled him into continuing. "We'll just go down the street, across the main road to the park, then back," I promised.
Lincoln was obviously used to walking down the middle of this country lane. At thirty-eight kilograms, he won.
We started to cross the main road - Lincoln lay down in the middle and refused to move. Cars slowed, crept around us in a wide arc. I tried to haul Lincoln to his feet. Impossible.
I prayed: "Please don't let Lincoln die, especially not here in the middle of the road."
I could never lift him, let alone carry him home. Seeing my dilemma, drivers stopped, offering help. We managed to get Lincoln back to the footpath. Half an hour and two hundred metres later, we arrived back home.
Prayers answered. Still alive.
Regardless of Lincoln "enjoying" a walk, we didn't venture beyond the garden again. The remaining days we stayed home and looked at the beach through the windows.
My "fun holiday trip" with "my" pet! Hmm. Maybe Lincoln had fun!
"He'll be YOUR pet - your very own dog! But just for a week!"
Ian and Sue, life-long friends, knew I wanted a dog. They were attending a family event, and could not take their Golden Labrador. Would I care for him?
"We want this time to be special for Lincoln too. You'll love him - he's gentle and sweet! We have a holiday house nestled into a cliff overlooking a beautiful beach - would you like a short holiday?"
Short-term ownership - but I'd pretend Lincoln was mine! I'd make sure we had fun together. I happily agreed.
We met up at their holiday home; they presented a page of instructions.
Ian's last words before leaving were, "Lincoln is fifteen. He hasn't much time remaining; he's winding down. Please don't get upset if he dies. We're expecting it at any time!" WHAT?!
Our holiday began.
"Lincoln needs reminders to go outside regularly," I read. No problem, despite lots of stairs. I could handle that.
"Lincoln prefers to be hand-fed." WHAT?!
Raw chicken pieces, mostly neck! I tried putting the chicken in his bowl, to no avail. He would not eat. I dangled them in front of him - Lincoln snatched them greedily. Ugh. It nearly made me sick hearing the sound of bones being crunched, watching Lincoln drooling. Yes, Lincoln definitely preferred hand-feeding!
"Lincoln needs and enjoys a daily walk." Excellent. Me too. That would be fun.
We set out, sort of. Their uphill driveway was steep. Half-way up, Lincoln sat down … and started to slide backwards down the driveway. I put my foot behind his bottom as a brake. Impasse.
I finally cajoled him into continuing. "We'll just go down the street, across the main road to the park, then back," I promised.
Lincoln was obviously used to walking down the middle of this country lane. At thirty-eight kilograms, he won.
We started to cross the main road - Lincoln lay down in the middle and refused to move. Cars slowed, crept around us in a wide arc. I tried to haul Lincoln to his feet. Impossible.
I prayed: "Please don't let Lincoln die, especially not here in the middle of the road."
I could never lift him, let alone carry him home. Seeing my dilemma, drivers stopped, offering help. We managed to get Lincoln back to the footpath. Half an hour and two hundred metres later, we arrived back home.
Prayers answered. Still alive.
Regardless of Lincoln "enjoying" a walk, we didn't venture beyond the garden again. The remaining days we stayed home and looked at the beach through the windows.
My "fun holiday trip" with "my" pet! Hmm. Maybe Lincoln had fun!
 Recognized |
(448 words)
I was relieved to hand Lincoln back to his real owners at the end of the week.
He lived for two more weeks.
(Thirty-eight kilograms is more than eighty pounds.)
Australian spelling used throughout.
Disqualified from the contest, because he was not really mine. He was only mine for one week, so that doesn't count. I'm too honest! I should have changed it รข?? fiction was permitted! Never mind. I enjoyed writing bout Lincoln.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. I was relieved to hand Lincoln back to his real owners at the end of the week.
He lived for two more weeks.
(Thirty-eight kilograms is more than eighty pounds.)
Australian spelling used throughout.
Disqualified from the contest, because he was not really mine. He was only mine for one week, so that doesn't count. I'm too honest! I should have changed it รข?? fiction was permitted! Never mind. I enjoyed writing bout Lincoln.
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