You can’t keep a good Jingle down

Why is it some days I can think of nothing to write and others, there is a surplus of ideas that I could pick from. I usually keep the serious stuff for the ROAMcare site which means most of the time this site is left with the breezy, often trivial, rambling essays that makes little sense outside the confines of my mind.

This week though, this week is serious stuff.

Last week, actually the last couple of weeks I’ve been more than a little distracted. The daughter’s doggie Jingle, who might as well be part mine they live so close and he’s here so often, is facing his mortality. He is suffering from an osteosarcoma in his front left what would be a shoulder if he was a human. (Scapula in dogs? Maybe it is a shoulder too.) After a couple of weeks of tests and scans, his only hope of fighting his fight is to have the leg and shoulder amputated which is scheduled for tomorrow (Tuesday) morning. That’s assuming the one final scan he has before the surgery does not reveal any metastases to the chest or lungs. If he has the surgery, a final biopsy will determine if he would benefit at all from chemo also.

I just spoke of Jingle in The Search for Bigfoot when I described him as “fairly normal-sized for a dog of indeterminate origin. He’s part pointer, part husky, and looks those parts. But he has feet the size of an ottoman, which has always led me to describe him as a yointer. Part pointer, part Yeti. It seems that could be accurate – technical differences between Himalayan abominable snowmen and hairy North American cryptids notwithstanding.”

For the last 2 or 3 weeks, the little fella hasn’t been able to use that leg, either because of the pain when he puts it down or the inability to move it from the nerve compressed by the tumor, so he’s already been getting his practice hopping on three legs and still does a mile walk every morning (down from his usual 2-2&1/2 miles), and he still eats and plays, and still demands scratches and treats. As the daughter says, “He’s still jingly.”

Providence smiled on us when last Friday we celebrated the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, he who is invoked at the annual blessings of pets at many churches around the world and which ours held just yesterday. It was the reminder that a medal of that very saint hangs on Jingle’s collar and that dogs too need prayers.

If you are of a mind to, perhaps you’d mention Jingle in your prayers tonight.

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Do you know the way?

Do you know the way to San Jose? Well, when you get there, please turn out the lights.

The U.S. is coming up on a milestone – one million COVID deaths. That’s 1,000,000. About the population of San Jose, California (1,005,000 give or take). Or if you’d rather think about it this way, that’s a little more than all of Delaware (990,000 plus or minus), or just about half of New Mexico (1,054,000 a couple years ago, that would be half of all the New Mexicans), however you want to think about it. You probably should, although you likely aren’t.

COVID news has been pushed way off the front pages. So much so you’d think it isn’t around anymore. For the week ending May 13, the United States averaged 302 COVID deaths per day. Those families are likely thinking about it. Worldwide we averaged 1,803 for that same time period. (New York Times, WHO). That doesn’t seem like a lot. But it’s more than those who die of diabetes in the U.S. (283/day), not far from how many die daily from stokes (385), and way more than those who die in another form of unnecessary death, violent crime (67/day) (CDC).

I bring this up because locally our case numbers are rising. Schools are returning to mask requirements and people aren’t happy about it. “The CDC says we don’t have COVID anymore” is their battle cry. Which at least is a refreshing change from “COVID is a hoax.” Neither is true but folks are in a tiz over it. Isn’t two years enough, they ask.

Another reason why I bring this up actually is just that. It’s been two years. COVID had a remarkable run in the public eye. The American attention span is seldom much longer than the current NFL season. We’ve already moved the war in Ukraine off the front page and that’s only into its fourth month, which perhaps not too coincidentally, is about as long as a football season.

I’m a big fan of Eleanor Roosevelt’s favored observation, “Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That’s why we call it ‘The Present.’” Eleanor Roosevelt knew what she was talking about. For over 7,700 Americans in addition to the 302 that will succumb to COVID, tomorrow won’t come. But that’s not to say we should no longer take caution to try to improve the chances that tomorrow will come.  I don’t say we should all be locked in our homes, venturing out only when covered in full surgical garb. I’m saying we should take note of the world around us. When mask mandates were lessened or eliminated two months ago, it wasn’t a sign that all is right with the world. But it was a sign that we are getting better. If we can get better with a dastardly, ever changing, so small you can’t see it with the naked eye enemy, why can’t we work to get better with the so many other things out there threatening our tomorrows.

COVID is still among us. As are flu, heart disease, dementia, war, unrest, questionable judgement among awards show attendees, violent crime, and bad breath. Some of that stuff will kill you. I’m just saying, let’s be careful out there even if you don’t remember why and may not be here tomorrow anyway.

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