Doing Something Dangerous

Robin Botie of Ithaca, New York, Photoshops her inherited dog Suki sinking in cracked concrete.In the first sentence of the book I was to choose a word or phrase from, it said, “… about to do something dangerous.” There were easier phrases to choose from beyond that first line, words that immediately painted pictures in my mind, words that would be less challenging to make six photographs of. But I kept coming back to that phrase. About to do something dangerous.

Maybe because I don’t ever do anything dangerous. Or, at least, not intentionally like some blog-sites that scream, “Do Something Dangerous Today.” I hardly ever take risks. After losing a daughter to leukemia, I know peril comes stalking a person sure enough without one’s flirting with it.

Trying to exercise some dangerous behavior to aid in executing the assignment, I squatted behind my camera at the bottom of the college’s huge staircase. Then I walked the halls looking only through my viewfinder, purposefully knocking into students I didn’t know and snapping their pictures.

Over the week, to complete the assignment, I considered what dangerous things I’d done in the past. Like walking alone in the city at night, exposing myself on social media, swimming by myself in strange waters, advertising on Craig’s List to rent my guest room, taking a ride from a bartender I didn’t know in Australia, getting my pilot license, … trusting another human being, getting romantically involved. Earthquakes and scorpions are dangerous, although I’d experienced neither. Rabid raccoons, jellyfish, high cliffs, losing control, … I had experienced. Menacing claws, lightning, lighting a match, and ground breaking beneath my feet are dangers I am wary of. And cancer.

Doing something dangerous has adverse consequences. Like the time I hiked in a slippery streambed, I fell and broke my wrist. When I carried a heavy bag of cat-poop I fell into my front door and broke my nose. Why would I want to do something dangerous?

Early in the week, Suki, the dog I inherited from my daughter, stopped eating. I watched as Doc Orzeck poked around the lump on her throat.
“A fifty/fifty chance it’s cancer,” he said. I held Suki tight for days. We snuggled each night. When she started wagging her tail again, we went for a hike. I fell. I got up and we kept walking. The next days we hiked and walked and sat in the sun. Danger is everywhere. Living your life, or daring to love, or just walking, is doing something dangerous.

 

What dangerous thing have you done? And why?

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11 thoughts on “Doing Something Dangerous

  1. SusanB

    Carrying a bag of cat poop, you fall and break your nose? That’s scary for sure. I’m so glad to know that Suki will be OK and you’ll have her a while longer. I noticed a lump on my horse’s forward shoulder, left side. Immediately there was that gut fear, you know the kind, the one that knows shit happens. I love that horse like you love your dog. But he is just a horse. Not one of my kids. We can get through most things eh Robin. Fearless. Almost.

    Reply
    1. Robin Botie Post author

      You are right of course. She is just a dog. But Susan, having lost a kid, does a dog or a horse kind of become a fill-in kid? Sometimes? Maybe not if you have a bunch of other kids tearing through the house, tugging at your heart. Maybe I get too wrapped up in this dog, having only one “child” left who is grown and mostly gone. Yes, we can get through most things. I’m still working on Fearless. Cheers!

      Reply
  2. Joann Giovannone (Jo)

    Robin, to me getting up in the morning can be dangerous 🙂 However, I’ve always tried to look at things as an adventure and been willing to try it at least once to see if it’s fun/memorable. I’d rather leave this world having created a memory album full of memorable pictures than always play it safe. Yes, this from the person who was in a rollercoaster accident at age 14 y.o., and still went back to the same park, on the same rollercoaster about a month later. 🙂 So glad Suki is going to be ok! (PS…have you had any contact from the times union yet?)

    Reply
    1. robinbotie.com

      I can’t believe you went back on the rollercoaster. If it had been me I would’ve stayed in bed under the covers for at least a few years or a decade. You are made of strong stuff, Jo. I will contact Mike Huber at the Times Union this week. I did investigate the bloggers on TU and decided to renovate parts of my site before inviting critical inspection. Thank you. Wishing you some fun and memorable adventures in the near future.

      Reply
  3. Lynne Taetzsch

    When I was young I did lots of dangerous things because I thought I was invincible. Aging and the death of loved ones teaches us we are not.

    Thanks for the post!

    Reply
    1. Robin Botie Post author

      Yes, and isn’t it hair-raising to watch our children mismanaging their lives like they are invincible? Aging and death. Well, our children’s turns will come. Life is so amazingly designed. Cheers, Lynne.

      Reply
  4. Elaine Mansfield

    Yes, walking is dangerous. And so is driving. I almost drove off the road looking at alpacas today. A friend told me recently that I’m “risk-adverse.” She has a point. It feels natural to me now. Something about my age. Something about not feeling sure of a safety net.

    Suki? Is she eating now? I hope so. What happens now in finding out what’s going on with her? I hope it’s not cancer. We live in a fierce world.

    Reply
    1. Robin Botie Post author

      We have an oncology appointment at Cornell Wednesday. The lump seems to have gone down a lot with the antibiotic treatment we were doing as if it were an abcess. But Doc Orzeck wants us to keep the appt with the oncologist to be sure one way or the other. Meanwhile, Suki is eating and hiking and enjoying life. And enjoying all the extra hugs and treats and attention. All the extras – just in case. More soon. Thanks, Elaine. Kisses to Willow.

      Reply
        1. Robin Botie Post author

          No cancer. The lump has turned into a small bump which will need to be removed and biopsied if it doesn’t disappear, but for now there is no cancer. Whew!

          Reply

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