I
am on the ground floor of my apartment com-
plex.
There is a sliding door off the living room
and
a small patio out back. I have a hard time
getting
around due to some serious arthritis in
my
hips.
I
have two small dogs which need to go out often,
and
the patio is mighty convenient and expedient
for
we three—you know, sniff, poop and pee.
Well
now, it’s winter and in the Midwest where
we
live bitter cold, ice and snow are a reality. My
daughter
bought me a snow shovel for Christams
to
deal with the possibilities. If we are expecting
more
than an inch or two of the white stuff, I will
go
out and shovel incrementally several times dur-
ing
a storm so that things don’t pile up and get out
of
hand. (Small dogs refuse to go out when accu-
mulation
is over their heads.)
In
this day and age, I suppose I should be grateful
(given
my advanced age and enfeebled condition)
that
I am not faced with an Ice Age. Really, I mean
and
honest to God Ice Age, for then, snow shovel
or
not, my pups and I would truly be in a hell of a
fix.
They can’t be expected to hold their business
till
warmer weather brings a thaw come the spring.
It
disturbs my sensibilities greatly to even consider
the
alternative.
I
don’t know, but something tells me we’re in for a
doozy
this year. While I realize scientists may con-
tend
that the next Ice Age is not likely to happen in
the
near future, from where I sit, a good 8 to 10 in-
ches
of ice and snow would seem like it to me.
-30-
Chris
Hanch 1-9-19
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