“How about Lily” my lad says, having fun trying thinking of a name for the stray dog that has landed on our doorstep. “I like Amaratsu,” the other one chirps. It’s been three days since the scruffy Springer Spaniel wiped its muddy coat all over the glass on the front door, and she’s not got any cleaner since. I tried to shoo it off, like most caring people do, but it just cowered and slid itself across the lawn on all fours. It’s been doing the same over the rug in the front room ever since, leaving a trail of mud behind it. I don’t know how, but it just manages to be wet and dirty all of the time, and so does the house since it arrived.
“We’re not keeping it,” I say defiantly, knowing that the force of two lads and their mother will eventually overpower me. We have a 15 year old dog as it is and when she’s gone I imagined a time when I didn’t have to go out in all weathers so she could have a sniff around and mark her territory. “It might live another 15 years and I’ll be the one still taking it for a walk,” I say to an audience who are too engrossed in the naming ceremony to take any notice of me.
I am taking action though in my own way and typing up a FOUND poster to put up on the noticeboard in Super Valu. “It’s what I would hope anyone else would do if we lost our dog,” I say as I copy the dog’s image onto the page. “Don’t get too attached to her,” I warn as the printer starts to whirr and get a lump of Blu Tac off the wall to stick the poster up with. “How about Dug?” I overhear Julie say.
Careful now
The dog has also been busy in the garden helping me do a bit of digging. I could start by advising which method are the best at keeping animals off of the prized veggies, (human hair is one of the most effective methods by the way…ugh), but I have been quite thankful of the help even though she does tend to dig in one central area to a depth of two feet.
There is a far more pressing matter, and that’s safety…getting back into the swing of things after the winter break.
Traditionally springtime has budding gardeners across Ireland itching to get back into their flowerbeds and rockeries after a long winter break. However, doctors have warned that many gardeners overdo it and end up needing treatment for a host of injuries including gardeners' back, weeder's wrist and pruner's neck, (yes, there is such a thing). They say that throwing yourself into the hobby – without a warm up – is as dangerous as a footballer returning to competition without training and this time of year the number of people attending injury clinics with gardening related ailments is often higher than those for sports such as football or rugby.
Dr Ian Drysdale, College Principal of the British College of Osteopathic Medicine (BCOM) said, "Every year clinics prepare themselves for these gardening related injuries, but the majority of them are totally preventable”
"What happens is that people forget themselves and go in all gung-ho after the relative hibernation of the winter months, forgetting that their bodies need, like the gardens, to be coaxed in gently and limbered up over a period of time. People don't associate gardening with danger which is the most dangerous thing of all." Dr Drysdale continues.
Clinics see incidents surge by a quarter in the spring months as well as at the end of the growing season in October. Injuries range from blisters to slipped discs and can effect any-one over 30, although the elderly are particularly susceptible.
Take it easy
"At this time of year people may not done a lot of gardening or activity for a long time," Dr Drysdale explains. “Then there is a sunny day and they throw themselves into it. They don't do it for 20 minutes, they dig the whole allotment in three hours or they mow the whole lawn.There is no warm up and they come down with an injury. They strain their back or in extreme cases a slip a disc."
Another factor to take into consideration when going back out into the garden is to make sure all of the tools are working well and as they should. I went to use a fork the other day and the only thing that was left of the handle was the plastic protective cover, the steel on the inside had rusted away to powder. This resulted in the whole thing collapsing onto the ground as I pressed it into the soil. As usual, I wasn’t putting too much energy into the process, so no harm done.
So remember to take it easy in the garden and work your way up slowly. I’m off to put the poster up in the shop for now. She is kind of cute though…...
