A Cool, Shady Spot

At times it seems all that matters is the walk, if not for me, then for Duncan. From the moment I get up and get dressed it's time for our morning walk. Barely am I in the door after work and he's doing dances and chirping for our afternoon walk. On the weekends he sits and pines in the windows and casts forlorn looks over his shoulder at me, accusatory and full of remorse. How could I think of doing anything other than walk? Walk, walk, walk. With Duncan it's easy to believe the walk is the driving force behind his entire existence. Quite often it even takes precedence over meals. Some dogs are food motivated (and don't think Duncan isn't), some are play motivated (again, don't let him fool you), but with Duncan, more than anything, he's walk motivated.

And that's why I was confused this afternoon on jaunt through the park. It was a lovely day. The birds were out, squirrels were undulating across the grass, the flowers were out in full force and the last of the trees are finally beginning to nudge awake. I packed the ball, a pocket full of treats and was ready to go. Duncan dragged me across the street, but once we were there he didn't seem all the excited to move. He sniffed around for a bit, chased after his ball once or twice but failed to bring it back both times, andt finally decided he didn't want to walk. He merely wanted to sit.

He picked a nice, shady patch of grass quite close to one of the baseball fields and on the edge of a sunny spot and simply sprawled out and watched the small insects as they hummed over and around us, floating like specks of gold against the sunlight. He rolled a bit but gave even that up, finally settling on his back with his legs in the air and his blond belly exposed to the tall sky. Today was about sitting, about letting the world come to us, or not come, he had no preference. The grass was cool and long, not quite ready for cutting, fragrant and eager to tickle. I plopped down next to him and together we watched the little leaguers play ball, watched one small cloud, lonely and not very excited about being a cloud, drift across the sun before calling it quits and vanishing altogether. I think he dozed a bit and I could've, too, but just when my eyes started getting heavy, the crack of a fly-ball broke the calm, we both startled and realized it was time to go home. He had some dinner to eat, his Bah-Bah to groom and I had laundry to attend to.

I think he knew what was best. All this rushing and moving to see and experience as much as possible just wasn't on the agenda today. And that's just as good as the walk. Maybe even better.