Heartbeat
Last week I got carried away with a squirrel. He was pillaging the bird feeder in broad daylight. It was war. I burst out of the screen door, got him with the first shot from my water gun and chased him up the oak tree. My heart was pounding. It was too much for a guy on the heavy end of the scale. I dragged myself inside, short of breath. A couple Xanax later, I had recovered. From now on, the birds would fight their own battles. A walk later that day set off another heartbeat of well over a 100. It’s a great system, tachycardia. The brain sees unusual heartbeats and says “Hey, you’re under stress,” which adds more stress and more beats. I turned around after a block. “You have an appointment with your internist on Friday,” my wife reminded me. “Butterfield? I was there last year.” “Butterfield has your number,” Nancy replied. “He’s keeping you alive so you can make the house payment.” “How come your heart rate is so great?” She answered, “I smoke.” My he