Walking Stick

The typical order of operations in our humble home happen something like this:

5:30 - Alarm clock rings

5:31 - I grumble and roll back over for twenty more minutes' rest

5:50 - Boyfriend of Amazingness insists that it is time to get up, and I can't call out unconscious

5:52 - Shower Time

5:53 - Young Master sticks his head in the shower to find out what all the excitement is about

5:53.5 - Young Master complains of a dampened head

5:57 - Boyfriend of Amazingness finishes his shower, goes to dress

6:05 - Boyfriend of Amazingness is dressed and takes the Young Master downstairs to start the coffee

6:10 - I finally convince myself that there's life outside of my shower and that perhaps I should get on with it

6:11 - Boyfriend of Amazingess takes the Young Master out for his morning constitutional

6:20 - I finally decide upon an outfit and make it downstairs to greet Boyfriend of Amazingness and the Young Master as they return from their constitutional and settle in for breakfast

6:30 - Boyfriend of Amazingness leaves for work; Young Master's world comes to a screeching halt

6:35 - After five minutes of prompting and persuading, Young Master remembers that there's another human in the household with whom he might engage

6:37 - Young Master and I set out for a morning walk

6:38 - Young Master insists that we must turn back, for he has forgotten his walking Stick

It's the same every morning. We walk out the door, and make it almost to the end of the driveway before he remembers that something is missing, and we cannot continue forward until it is found.

His walking Stick is the length and bredth of my forearm - exactly the same circumference and only gnawed ever-so-slightly about the ends.**1 It is, by all accounts, the only Stick worth having.

It is the Stick with the capital S.

Sure, other sticks might fill the void for a short time. They might help distract him from his missing companion.

But no stick could e'er replace his Stick.

For instance, one afternoon my fabulous sister puppy-sat for us, on a morning wherein the Young Master would not constitute during his constitutional. For fear of regression of our house-trained pup, I called upon my sister for a lunchtime potty run. She obliged most graciously, but somewhere upon the route of the walk his Stick became lost.

Now, "lost" is a strong term. What happened in my sister's words is that Stick was momentarily set aside in favor of a delectable to-go container that had been cast aside by the road. After he "Dropped It," they were both flushed with success and forgot to retrieve Stick before moving on.

This meant that Stick was lost, as was all hope for future happiness.

The situation was easily resolved when I called Sister and asked if she knew where Stick might be. She directed us, we retrieved Stick and the world was right again. But for those short hours, life was the absolute worst it had ever been.**2

And so, my morning routine is set. I rise, I shine, I walk with Stick.

And it is good.

**1 Of note because the Young Master is a "power chewer." Thank goodness for Kong, whose resistance to puppy teeth resets my hope for the future of nice things in my home.

**2 Ironic for a pup whose baby-making paraphernalia has only been missing for a month. To me, that would be a greater catastrophe... but perhaps his incessant licking of his nethers has reassured him that he's as whole as he needs to be.