Walking the Dog

It all sounds like a pleasant diversion. Go out when the fireball that is the Southern summer sun has retreated enough to allow both skin and retinas a break and take the extremely excited dog for a walk.

I grabbed my cell phone and the leash. The bouncing off the wall begins now.

Amid the exciting dancing and whining at the door, we open it and go out onto the driveway where the command to 'lay down!' is issued and reluctantly allows me to snap the leash into place. She wriggles and squirms as if I will somehow just 'forget' to attach the leash and allow her to run amok throughout the neighborhoods that we visit on our journey.

Thus far, I have been quick enough to prevent this from happening but it is only a matter of time before she scampers into the field next door without me. Her tongue will be lolling to one side in the slobbery grin of an escaped canid felon. She will dart and dance, coming near only to dash away in an open mouthed,ears back run that lets me know that it is she and not me who is in control of the greatest question of all: "to leash, or not to leash; that is is the question".

Of course it seems like an exercise in futility to explain to her why the leash is important. My sore arms bear ample testimony to the fact that she views the leash as her control over me in terms of speed and direction on our little jaunts into the unknown within our neighborhood. In her mind, she must certainly see herself as the lead musher in an Iditerod that has yet to be announced for the verdant, dewy, magnolia scented city.

Perhaps that is what she is dreaming when she paddles her feet like mad and barks in her sleep. I am quite sure she isn't chasing bunnies or squirrels because she doesn't bark at them until they escape from her through the mesh of the fence or up a tree.

No, this is the kind of barking that lets you know that she has an agenda and speed will be a factor.

Sometimes, she awakens from one of these episodes of 'Wild Kingdom' with a startled expression and rumpled fur that makes me laugh. It is as if she has become so excited in her dream world that it has collided violently with her waking hours and come to an abrupt stop like a mushers sled slamming into a snowbank.

She gets up somewhat unsteadily and walks over to me seeking some kind of reassurance that everything is just fine. I invite her up to sit with me (or on me) and I stroke the soft fur on her cheeks.

She will lay her head down on my chest and tuck it under my chin as if she is just a tiny little puppy. In a few moments, all is right in her world and she jumps down to patrol the yard or see what is going on in the other rooms of our home.

For those who don't know the rare wonder it is to share your life with a four legged, fur covered companion, I can guarantee that their company beats most others in spades.

Even though the pace is faster than my stiff legs are used to, there is something about the pace of a dog on a mission to lead her personal sled to victory.