Walking the Dog

Jon-Erik Hegstad

The whimper/growl woke me again this morning. Knowing immediately what the issue was I leapt into action, ran through the living room naked as a jay and hurriedly opened the back door for our dog to go outside and water the lawn. It’s raining. She doesn’t need to pee that bad. But gee, it sure would be nice to have this collar off now that you’re awake. Ah. There it is.

Click. Trots over to her special-order memory foam bed. Plop.

With her jowls spread evenly over both paws she gazes at me, piercing black eyes which have lost their ability to see bunny rabbits 20 feet away, yet always seemingly asking: snack time? Tossing her collar on the sofa was the clear No answer she was dreading.

Sigh.

Her exhale of disappointment is always hard to take. As I pad back to bed for more sleep, (or would it be a nap at this point?) I hear the click of her nails on hardwood, following me.

“Didn’t you want your collar off?” I ask as if addressing a six year old child who completely understands the English language.

She shakes her head, making her ears slap then leads to a whole body jiggle.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” I ask hesitantly.

Bark! Tail wagging full speed.

Ah. There it is.