“Would you like a bag?” the cashier at Twisted, my local yarn shop asked as she rang up my order: two skeins of Knitted Wit Victory DK. I had one last Christmas present to knit.
“No thanks,” I replied. “I can manage. It was a beautiful Fall day, the sun was shining and it was a short walk to the car.
My dog, Lucy, is sometimes a little nervous in the car and I like to take her places that aren’t the vet. A trip to Twisted was a great excuse for a practice trip. Saturdays are our days together and I decided that, if I couldn’t get a parking spot out front, I would just cross my fingers and hope they’d let me bring her in. It is dog-friendly Portland.
I thanked the cashier, grabbed the yarn in my left hand, Lucy’s leash looped around my right wrist, and we were off.
Lucy is sometimes nervous on busy streets, too. She was walking quickly for a basset hound and I was hustling along at a middle-aged lady clip.
We had just crossed the street when my toe caught the edge of the curb. I was down in an instant, yarn on the sidewalk in front of me, Lucy staring at me with a perplexed look.
I got to my knees and took stock of my situation. Scrapes on my knuckles from the pavement, but otherwise okay. And, most importantly, no one had seen me fall.
I picked up my yarn, dusted them off, then got to my feet and slowly readjusted the yarn and Lucy’s leash. Without looking back, we walked even more quickly to the car and drove home where I could start knitting and nurse my bruised pride.
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