A Visit to the Vet's

Yesterday my daughter took my two dogs

and me to the vet’s. The younger pup needed

her rabies shot; the elder to have his nails

trimmed. The vet examined the youngster's

teeth and noticed a build-up of plaque.

We have an excellent anesthesiologist, she

assured me. There’s very little chance of

something going wrong. It’s pretty much

necessary to put dogs to sleep for an

extensive cleaning.

I knew how expensive that procedure would

be, so I nodded my head without mentioning

the subject any further. Back to the matter at

hand today—rabies shot, nails trimmed, and

oh yes, I’ll be needing flea and tick meds for

both dogs.

Your total today will be one-hundred and

eighty-four dollars the assistant told me.

Will that be okay? I said no. What choice

do I have but to pay? (A gasp and chuckles

from all the humans in the examining room.)

When the vet and her assistant took the little

pup out of the room for her inoculation, I

told my daughter that the teeth-cleaning bit

would assuredly be a pretty costly proposition,

and for now I’d have to let that one slide. She

winced and nodded her head in agreement.

When the doctor and her assistant returned

with my little one, she said, all done. She

did just fine. I then broached the matter of

rabies with the good doctor. We discussed

that for a while when she told me that she,

as part of her veterinarian responsibilities,

had to go through a series of rabies shots

for protection, and that it cost her some

six-hundred dollars out of her own pocket.

I looked into her eyes, and without blinking

or the slightest hint of surprise, I offered how

for that steep a price she might have instead

been given anesthesia and gotten her own

teeth cleaned.

Chris Hanch 9-16-18

A Lesson Learned

There are two ways to learn.

And you have been taught this

before, most of you old enough

to know better, that is.

First and foremost, look, listen

and learn. And when it’s your

turn apply that which you have

seen with your own eyes or

have been previously told.

Second way, of course, many

of us have discovered over time,

plunge headlong into the unknown

in the hopes you will then figure

things out on your own.

Have you ever heard the old

saying, every dog has his day?

I’ll repeat it once again, and

leave the interpretation of that

locution up to you.

I’ll give you a hint: It’s a good

thing if you’re still alive to talk

about it. (Personally, I have made

the acquaintance of many dogs

who were never given a break

on any given day.)

Oh well, this whole damned life

lesson thing isn’t meant for dogs,

is it? Many of them, the old ones

anyway, can’t be taught new tricks

in any case.

Chris Hanch 9-15-18

In the Blink of an Eye (Reuse of a Well-worn Cliche'

If I can take your picture, I’ll buy you

a hot dog and lemonade, I offered the

old man bench sitting at the festival

on a warm and sunny summer’s day.

His advanced age and long white beard

captured my eye. I had seen him several

times before around this town. And I

had asked others, do you know that man?

Oh, him? Why, that’s Dutch, I was told.

He’s been around here forever. This day

I had my camera with me and I wasn’t

going to pass up the opportunity to

capture such an interesting character

on film. For posterity, you know. And

besides, I have come to realize that

forever in a lifetime is a state which

doesn’t really last that long. And after

a time, I have been proven right. Dutch,

I read in the local news the other day,

passed away last week at the ripe old

age of eighty-eight. I still have that

photograph I took of him some years

earlier when I was a younger man who

then admired the old and gray. And,

now that I am advanced in my own

state of elderly grace, I can better

relate to that which I saw in Dutch

all those years ago. Today, I find my-

self sitting alone on this park bench

life has prepared for me. There is no

festival on this warm and sunny summer’s

day. No hot dog and lemonade stand

nearby I can see. And I am certainly not

catching the eye of a younger generation

passing by. Everyone seems focused on

their electronic devices these days. Young

folks are oblivious to what’s going on

around them. Oh well, in any case, along

with Dutch, I too shall soon be replaced. Then

one day, in the blink of an eye, these young

folks in turn will be seated here in this place,

noticeable or not, reserved for the old and gray.

For now, I need to hobble my weary ass along

and find a hot dog and some ice cold lemonade.

Chris Hanch 9-14-18

The Class Assignment

In the eighth grade at Holy Redeemer,

when Sr. Ann Vincetta told the class

to open their math books to page 184,

I knew I was in trouble.

That page, located somewhere near the

end, I knew, contained problems, actual

exercises in algebra to be solved.

How many students in years preceeding

me had to reckon with x, y, and z. I never

could relate numerical figures with the

alphabetical counterparts which stood
in their place.

After struggling with the very first battle-

ment of questions I faced, I retreated

from the bloodbath field of math, and on

my worksheet, I drew a cartoon of Beetle

Bailey instead.

He was standing at attention while Sarge

Snorkel yelled at him, “x...y...z!” Now,

there was an image with which I could

be pleased.

When the good Sister told us to hand our

assignment to the student on our left to be

corrected, I gave mine to Christine Watkins,

with whom most of the guys I knew would

agree, was hands down the cutest girl in class.

I blushed a beet-red with embarrassment.

And right away, I could see that my silly

drawing made about as much sense to her

as x, y, z meant to me.

It was then I realized that becoming a

physicist or CPA was definitely not in

my future.

And Christine Watkins, one day more

than likely, would marry a super-star

football player, not some skinny dim

witted and mathematically challenged,

wanna-be cartoonist...um...sort of like
the guy I happen to be. 

Chris Hanch 9-13-18

Word Power

I began my writing search today with

thoughts of words which entangled me

so that I had to retreat from the growing

complexities of the whole idea. I then

considered pursuing Parts Unknown with

world traveler and TV personality Anthony

Bourdain. And again my mind grappled

with the vast expanse of that undertaking.

Ever been to one of those buffets where

there was so much to choose from, you put

more on your plate than you could ever hope

to eat in one sitting without making yourself

sick? So, in the interest of moderation and

common sense, you wisely decided on the

fried chicken and mashed potatoes instead.

Well, dear reader, this morning as is the

case occasionally, that happened to me.

While I love and respect the profuse

abundance of words and their tasty and

profound imagery when used creatively,

and I shall miss my vicarious travels and

cultural experiences with the recently

deceased Anthony Bourdain. I shall give

myself a pass today, or at least let this

alternative piece hopefully speak a few

plain and simple, untangled thoughts

for me. I was thinking about Anthony,

and what made him decide that words,

no matter how artfully and eloquently

arranged, were no longer enough for him

to go on? R.I.P., Anthony. You shall be

missed. Your words spoke loud and clear

to me.

Chris Hanch 9-12-18

Transportation (for Jane)

There were those days

when to get somewhere

in the morning, one

would saddle the horse

or hitch their steed to

a wagon or carriage.

In some places that still

may be an appropriate

measure applied today.

In these more modern

times, turning the key

of the car or truck would

be more fitting to

beginning the process

of getting to places

we need or want to be.

Whether a sharp snap

of the reigns, kicking of

the heels and commanding,

“giddyup” or a slick shifting

of gears into drive, we’re off

and on our way.

Time progresses and

propels us forward

most days no matter

the available forms

of transportation

which in some cases

may include boats,

bicycles, trains and

planes.

Of course walking is

also in many cases an

option. Anyway, by any

means available, we

shuttle off on our way

into the often planned yet

unknowable of our days.

Some are afforded the

forecast of a 50% chance

for rain. Others look up

and see the storm clouds

gathering. No matter the

time or place, an umbrella

is certainly a safe bet on

those overcast days of gray.

In any case, my friend,

saddle up and have yourself

a fine and lovely day.

I, myself, used to drive

a car, but somehow “saddle

up,” leastwise for me, sounds

a good deal more adventurous

and sexy.

Chris Hanch 9-11-18

Intruders of Peace and Tranquility

I have two dogs, small dogs, you know,

the feisty kind who bark at strangers and

noises which arise suddenly. The elder is

a Chihuahua, and at age seventeen for the

most part he prefers to nap and eat, with

regular intervals set aside to poop and pee.

The younger, a Maltese/poodle mix, is by

far more rambunctious. Most of her day is

spent as a guard dog watching TV with

me. She barks incessantly at every dog,

cat, horse, antelope and hippopotamus

she sees on the big screen. I can no longer

watch nature shows or wilderness adven-

tures knowing a bear or puma, a raccoon

or river otter is more than likely to appear.

She charges them pawing and barking at

their images with a deep and sincere fer-

osity. And the commercials, have you

noticed, not only the pet care ones, but

most advertisers feature typical American

family scenes with dogs and cats included?

The frequency with which 4-legged creatures

infest and command the airwaves is a pro-

found annoyance to me. I have tried over

and over again to convince my pup, it’s all

just a two-dimensional representation, an

audio/visual simulation, an electronically

transmitted stream of hyperbole, merely

a facsimile of reality, not a living, breathing,

flesh-and-blood threat to our personal

security. As for me personally, I am repulsed

by the reprehensible human behavior I see

all too often portrayed on TV. Much of it is

a bunch of bull crap raising my hackles and

promoting some sneering and barking on my

part. Makes one sorry they missed out on the

heyday of radio. From what I’ve been told,

back then both family and pets were comfy

cozy napping or listening intently to FDR’s

weekly Fireside Chats to inspire not agitate.

And even that was when a war was ongoing.

Chris Hanch 9-10-18