Why has no one ever told me to get a dog? How have I lived almost a half century without realizing that dogs improve your quality of life exponentially? How did I not know what a sedentary life I’d been leading. I thought I’d hate having a dog- he was my daughter’s consolation prize when we had to move out of our home a year ago ... “Sorry you have only 72 hours to pack up your whole life in these boxes...but hey... look at the bright side. You can have the dog you’ve been asking for since you came out of the womb”. He was the single biggest sacrifice I’ve ever made in the line of maternal duty. Who’d have believed I’d fall so deeply in love with this creature... currently the only male in my life, currently the only male who wants to jump my bones, currently the only male who loves me unconditionally, enthusiastically and whole-heartedly. Not only is he good for my self-esteem (who can resist being adored?), and my waistline (how could I not run with him daily when he is such an extraordinary athlete and my house is so small?), but spending time outdoors with him is good for my head as well.... sooo good! My thoughts become more precise and clear. My senses become activated. My inner hard drive deletes temporary files that have been slowing my thinking processes down. Today on our walk, I decided to pay attention to all the sounds of nature going on around me. In what world would I ever have done something like that before? So I walked for an hour, like the bionic woman*- with my super-hearing tuned to every oscillating sound wave.
The twittering of tiny little birds that could fit entirely in the palm of my hand sounded remarkably like the alarm on my daughter’s ten dollar alarm clock . The rush of the Don River sounded very much like the rush of the cars speeding overhead on the 401 which from where I stood looked like a highway on stilts. The tall dry grasses being trampled under my dog’s feet made the snapping sound of damp logs in a fireplace, and the sound of his absurdly long nails on the paved parts of the trail made the sound mosquitoes make as they fly into those electrical zapping machines. The tall young trees stretched by the force of the wind were making squeaky aching sounds from their trunks while their branches clicked together like chopsticks in a dim sum restaurant.
At one point on the trail, for about 10 feet, someone had hung little Easter egg ornaments at toddler height on the branches of bushes. 'Whatever for?' I wondered. Was it a child who’d left this pleasant surprise? A parent gearing up for an Easter Egg hunt on the weekend?
Who knows? But I may look for them tomorrow if I go back that way again.
* a cultural reference appreciated only by TV watchers in the late 1970's
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| Tall dry grasses |
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| My Dog's ridiculously long Nails |
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| The little bird's nest |
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| Aching trees |
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| Highway 401 on stilts |
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