I often use a cane, unless I am walking our foster lab. In that case I tend to wobble. It could be confused with mild drunkenness by the untrained eye.
This afternoon I was walking Rufus jauntily down our street—I’m always jaunty for the first half block—and came upon a large gathering of adults and small children tossing a foam football in the street during Super Bowl half-time, shrieking gaily, dashing about. One of the fathers was capturing all this for posterity, from a cozy beach chair along the curb.
As I passed, I smiled at the goings on, nodded to the cameraman and immediately stumbled over one of the thousands of cracked sidewalk pieces that populate our neighborhood. Foster Rufus started to the side as I catapulted forward and just barely regained my balance, if not my dignity.
I looked over to see that the father was pointing his camera right at me. I’ll bet I make the highlight reel.