The Fickle Finger of Fate

Those of you around my age will remember the fantastic ground-breaking TV show, Laugh-In. The hosts would do a schtick with a large finger, called The Fickle Finger of Fate. It would be used to point out some misfortune or other that had befallen a person in the news.

I was thinking of it today as I walked around lovely Hall Road with the dog. Our neighbour, Jean, two doors over, just died last week of leukemia at age 63. I met her 25 years ago when we moved here, and though I never really knew her, we always stopped to chat when we’d cross paths on our walks.

It just seemed particularly cruel in her case, as Jean walked, didn’t drink or smoke, and never said mean things about anyone. Once again it reminded me of the brevity of our time here, and how important it is to enjoy every moment and not get mad over every little thing.

Though I sure got mad at Louie the other day. Squirrels decided to move into the little dilapidated shed at the top of the driveway. Louie hates squirrels ever since one was trapped in the sunroom last year and he was within a hair’s breadth of catching it.

Louie was under the shed, as it’s suspended on the hill, and so he can get in underneath it where it’s up on stilts. I left him there for a couple of hours, but finally I started to call and call as I wanted him in and for us to get into bed.

No matter what I did, he refused to move. I pretended I had food, and that didn’t work. I then got a long stick and slapped it at him, but it was too short and he evaded it. I was practically beside myself wondering how to get that damned hound out when I saw the hose.

I took off the sprinkler end, turned it on and dragged it over to the shed. I called the dog, and he didn’t come, so I plastered him with a strong jet of water. I called again. Nothing, so I sprayed like a lunatic as he huddled in a corner. I just kept the water trained on him and finally out of desperation he gave up and came out.

There’s fine Okanagan dust under that shed, and when mixed with water, and smeared onto a long white tail, it’s all quite a mess. I had to lift the dog into the tub and bathe him before he could get into bed. I admonished him the whole time, explaining none of this would’ve happened had he listened when I called him.

You’ll note above I said I met Jean 25 years ago when we moved here, and on Monday June 1st it’ll be the 25th anniversary of me living in this house on Hall Road! Even though it often tries to kill me, I love this place.

I just watched the last 7 episodes of Mad Men and can honestly say I’m in love with Don Draper. But as I said to Margaret, Don Draper and his ilk are generally not interested in senior citizens.

However that doesn’t upset me, given the alternative, which could be the Fickle Finger of Fate in the persona of the Grim Reaper. Better to be a senior citizen than not, I say.