It was only after Nancy and her dog Teddy headed home, that I noticed my cane was dragging his heel. He was only copying me, I guess. My feet were ankle deep in crisp autumn leaves, and I wasn’t prancing like a show horse. Neither did cane. We made quite a racket striding down the street, but no one could have heard us over the noise of the wind. Even though the temperature was only in the mid 40s, I was glad of my buffering windbreaker. At that, the wind repeatedly tried to peel the jacket off my back. When we got home, I was totally disheveled, but the old cane hadn't turned a hair.
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