The Year of Living Dangerously

Yes, I do tend to appropriate other people's titles-thanks for noticing. Titles have never been my forte, and it sure saves a lot of brain cells this way.

Not sure what it is about this stage of life, but I've suddenly found myself deciding to do way more crazy stuff than I have since I was teenager. Just in the past--oh, let's say--nine months, I've just started doing whatever pops into my head. Not sure whether this is a neurological thing or just the latest manifestation of my innate insanity. In August, I climbed the Double Arch in UT while horrified onlookers became tiny specks below me (candor requires I also mention I was being passed by 9-year-olds climbing with their grampies, & French tourists in flips-flops). But to me, an almost-60-year-old with osteopenia and a fear of heights, it felt huge.

I've started helping one evening a week with newborn quadruplets & a 2-year-old. Enough said.

Rode a camel at a rodeo in Colorado. Have to admit she was a nice smooth ride, and was being led around the ring by a handler, just like a birthday-party pony ride. Also, the 5-year-olds who were mutton busting on bucking sheep were a heck of a lot bolder.

Now, after a couple peaceful months, I've started walking pit bulls at the Humane Society. I've always defended the pitties, who are with few exceptions congenital sweethearts who are just crazy about friendly human contact. But shelters are too darn full of them. People get them without realizing what they're getting into, and then bail on them. And cooped-up pit bulls in small kennels start to go nuts after awhile.

When you walk in, pitties launch themselves at the doors, barking and jumping and basically shrieking, "Me, me, me! Pick me! Are you here for meeeee?!" They are so much fun--so goofy and energetic and lovable. But so far, I've learned: (1) they are a lot of dog to hold onto, (2) to give the other kennels a wide berth, (3) their big ol' smiling jaws could pretty much take an entire arm in one gulp, & (4) to let them run off some of that energy before trying to leash-walk very far. Just prayed the whole way up to the exercise pens that the nylon lead would hold, considering an excited pit bull was gnawing and tugging on it. Also learned to brace myself when playing keep-away with a rag chewie--one happy leap, and I was flat on my calcium-deficient kiester (the same kiester which I was laughing off at that particular point).

I seriously don't know what I might do next--especially if I ever see that classified ad again for circus folk....