For a few weeks in February, I biked the hilly streets of Lake Havasu in Arizona. I struggled up the streets, concentrating so hard I barely noticed the houses and yards. At the top, I would rest and gathered up my courage before I could take the steep plunge down. Each time I was sure I would take a tumble and fall. But I never did.
Back home on level ground, with both feet beneath me, I slipped and slid. My feet flew out beneath me. I hit the snow-covered ground. My head snapped up and then banged on the hard ice. My jaw opened and shut. I felt indescribable pain reverberating through my head. I moaned and writhed in the snow. I heard Sheba whimpered near me. I was sure I was dying but I didn’t.
Just now I tried a session of nail trimming/grinding with Sheba. She was good with the muzzle and leash, but no way was she going to have a pedicure. So I failed – today.
Tomorrow is another day. And I have as much spirit as my furry baby. It is a little worn out and limp lately. Life seems to be full of cares and people needing caring. But I know I still have it in me all the same. I can still rise and shine. I can triumph.