Drunk Bees

Apparently wasps and bees get drunk.  I recently tried helping two bees, at least I think they were two different bees as these were two different walks but how would I know?  Both had been on their backs, their little legs and wings were frantically working to turn them right side up but they just couldn't do it.   Once turned over, the first once I happened upon walked with no problem so I moved on.  On my next walk, after being helped to his feet, the second one I found wobbled about for a few seconds and landed on his back once again.  I gave up on him.  He needed to sober up.

I've tried being a friend to human alcoholics, too.  I didn't grow up with alcoholism in my family but apparently other forms of abuse create the same results.  I like to think I've grown, learned, and broken the pattern that held me captive.  I haven't lost empathy or sympathy.  What I've lost is the need to become embroiled.  

Off to the beach for some water therapy and then I have my massage with Eric later this afternoon.  Not everything in my life is perfect, but it is pretty damn good.

One more thing.  I like to think that being cynical and realistic is not the same as being pessimistic.  Just something that has been on my mind.  I'm also out of bread.

Good Men

Yesterday morning I took Poppy to the vet's office to see if he met the 5 lb minimum weight for Trifexis, a medication that prevents heartworm, kills fleas, and controls worms in one easy pill. It was very busy with the line 3 people deep waiting for the one person left manning the front desk trying to keep his cool while handling all of our needs. 

As Poppy and I waited patiently in line, he vacillated between wanting to be in my arms and wanting to be down on the floor. Up, down, up, down. Well, during one of the "down" times, he decided it was also a good time to poop. A couple barely out of their twenties sitting with a cuddly box of newborn puppies had front row seats. The husband, wearing his Sarasota corrections uniform, said, "I've got this." He walked to the nearby bathroom and brought me out paper towels. I took one, bent down and retrieved the poop and when I stood back up I saw he was standing there with another paper towel in hand. He said, "You can put it here," as he held out his hand. I handed it off to him and he finished taking care of the mess in the bathroom. I think I must have thanked him 5 times.

When he came back out of the bathroom, he walked over to his wife and said, "I washed my hands. Can I see one of the puppies?" She reached in the box and held one up to him and he kissed its little head.

That, my friends, was awe inspiring to me. His wife didn't say, "Honey, go help that woman out." He volunteered for the job because he wanted to, because he could, because he thought it was the right and good thing to do. He was johnny-on-the-spot. To him it was probably in-consequential, but to me it was fantastical! I think my heart even grew a size.

P.S. Poppy weighs 5.1 lbs., or possibly 5.2 lbs. Hard to get a good read on a moving target.