Walking the dog
December 7 2002 by Tony W. Cartledge , BR Editor

Walking the dog | Saturday, Dec. 7, 2002

Saturday, Dec. 7, 2002

Walking the dog

By Tony W. Cartledge BR Editor

I knew I'd wind up walking the dog.

I've never been a big dog person because dogs, at least in the urban world, require a great deal of looking after, and I already have a full plate.

You can't just let a pooch run loose where we live, and since many of our neighbors prefer really big dogs, I'm grateful for that.

So, you have to keep the canines penned up or tied out or even in the house most of the time, but take them for periodic walks so they can do their business, stake out their territory and get enough exercise to stay healthy.

That's where I come in. When we agreed to let Samuel have a dog, it was a given that I would become the designated dog walker. It may be true that "every boy needs to have a dog," but it's also true that mommies and daddies are generally responsible for keeping the critters alive.

Samuel sometimes joins us on his bicycle, which makes for more of a run than a walk, but most often it's just the dog and the daddy.

Kipper and I often go out late at night, covering two or three miles of subdivision streets and cul-de-sacs. Jan can keep up with us by listening for where the other neighborhood dogs start barking.

We walk fast, with Kipper's short legs a blur when she's not stopping to investigate some new scent, and we don't talk much. I'm usually mulling over an editorial idea or pondering the most tactful reply to a particularly pointed letter. Kipper thinks whatever little doggy thoughts enter a puppy's head while sniffing the aromatic calling cards left behind by other dogs. She's intimately acquainted with a number of dogs that she's seen with her nose alone.

With a mutt factored into my schedule, most of my running has been displaced by walking, which may not be as good for my heart, but is kinder to my knees.

Here's a picture: a cool, foggy night that smells like rain, an old corduroy hat, a worn leather jacket, a spotted dog on a leash. If I only had a pipe, we could pose for Norman Rockwell.

I knew I'd wind up walking the dog.

What I didn't know is that I wouldn't mind the company.

Copyright (c) Biblical Recorder Inc.
12/7/2002 12:00:00 AM by Tony W. Cartledge , BR Editor | with 0 comments
Filed under:

Blog post currently doesn't have any comments.