Frequent readers of this column know that I’m just a short, old lady who’s battling breast cancer (for the second time!) while trying to run a business, grow a garden and wedge in a few visits with my grandchildren. I say this not for sympathy, but to let you know that physically, I’m about as threatening a bag full of teddy bears. There’s no need to release the hounds when I show up.
In order to keep up my strength between chemo sessions, I like to take a brisk walk up and down my street first thing in the morning, and I mean 6:30 am because if I don’t do it then, it ain’t happening. I wear a reflective vest and a head lamp. And I stay well over on the side of the road facing traffic. Shouldn’t be a problem, right? But it is because of the dogs on my street.
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