My vet is in a wheelchair for the first time in a long time, rather than bedridden.
It is a perfect late summer day and I ask if I can take him outside and the answer is yes.
We add a jacket to his ensemble and head outside to the parking lot where huge tree service trucks have piled giant logs, which we admire.
We notice a hole in the fence that leads to the rail trail, so we wobble him down through the fence, and start up the trail.
I realize that up ahead, somewhere, is Fawn Lake, a little jewel in the woods, so we make that our destination and we get there soon eventually.
There is a husband, wife and their little boy fishing and we watch them for a while.
Then we head back. The trail back up through the fence is a bit steep but a youngster riding a bike helps me wrestle the wheelchair with vet back up the hill.
From there we wheel back to the dementia ward and boast that we made it to Fawn Lake. Nurses and aides are impressed, and since we are back safe, not concerned that we went astray.
I check with my Jewish vet, but he is still in a trance and I can’t reach him.