Life is made up of little things. That is my attempt at being pithy in saying I haven't had many deep thoughts to work out in print. My mind is becoming cluttered with the usual collection of things to do, which is really more a list of things to worry about until I feel like doing them.
I am stupidly proud of myself for not missing any walks with Miss Rosie this week. Usually I start coming up with excuses mid-week about being too tired or too busy to spend a half-hour wandering the neighborhood. Perhaps it's the crispness of the fall weather, or the dog's resultant energy spurt, but I've been good. I'm even seriously considering dragging my butt back to the Humane Society to get back into that groove of dogwalking. (Please, if anyone's reading this, don't hold your breath.)
Today I decided to take Miss Rosie down one of the little cul-de-sacs that don't have sidewalks. I developed the habit of sticking to the sidewalks because I spend half the year walking a black dog in the dark, which does not make for safe conditions. I swear her coat actually soaks up light; crossing a room in the dark where she's lying in wait is a fast way to wake yourself up.
Anyway, so off we trundled, down what was essentially new territory for the doggie nose, and it was like walking a defferent dog. She was all over the place, leash manners be damned. Oh, she would listen to me when I told her to straighten out, but then a new lawn would beckon, something in that bush over there would move, or she'd hear an unfamiliar noise (no matter that it was ME putting something in my pocket; it was still worth going on high alert).
Rosie is quite adorable when her interest is aroused: half-flopped ears up, eyes wide open, bright pink tongue dangling from her open mouth and tail at full mast, she strikes a beautiful pose and stands stock still. Passerby often comment on her appearance, while I smile, try to thank them and do my best to avoid looking like a beast master as I struggle to get Rosie's attention again.
She generally has good leash manners, but when there's another dog to check out, every rule flies out of her head. She tends to forget there's something other than an anchor at the other end of the leash. As I learned the day I got her home, trying to move in a straight line from the driveway to the front door, that little 50-lb ball of fur can yank me right off my feet if she's of a mind to.
Well, we yanked and pulled and ran our zigzag path up and back on that cul-de-sac, until we got back to familiar territory: Sidewalk Land, where the rules have been well-established.
It's supposed to rain tomorrow, so I may have a great excuse to avoid walking her then...but the memory of her hop-skip-jumping along should goad me into remembering how much she needs to stretch her legs, and stimulate her mind (read: nose). And it's not like she's the only one who needs it!
Final thought for the day: If your dog's fat, you need to get more exercise.
Post-final thought for the day: If your dog's nonexistent, you should look into rectifying that situation.