Not to be a dog-blogging twit but here goes. A recent walk by the Frazier pack (three dogs, one human) deserves a wax sporadic.
First, we assemble in the garage/corral. Boss the hound barks, Lucy the terrier mix whines, vibrates and cocks her undersized head. Roxy resists the nose lead but accepts it like the stoic husky mix she is.
Then, on this day, we go forth in the dizzle-dazzle rain, eyes squinty windy and deepy splashy puddles soaking all feet and paws. Not so nice out here.We soon become all clogged leashes and twisting legs. They sniff while I curse. It looks like regular old grass to me but evidently it sweats sweet Au de Piss perfume. They inhale like crack heads on an all expenses paid vacation. Roxy goes one way, Lucy another and Boss another other.
The lady driving by evidently thinks it's cute to watch a man struggle walking three mutts in the rain. Me? Not so much. I'm eager to point home, dreaming of coffee and a towel. Then, at the intersection of Campus and Mackall, it happens. The pack flows as one.
When we move in quadraphonic harmony, walking the dogs is no longer walking. It's just living in the moment, now, sans distinctions. Trees, sidewalks, cars, grass, rain, air, dogs and humans all become part of the same connective collective. Who cares about the rain when you're slogging across the universe like this?
We are moving along like spirits, and we're lucky we are leashed. If we lacked some kind of tether, we might just disappear altogether.