WALKING WITH WONDERFUL WOOF

Woof gives me a certain look every evening after dinner. It doesn't mean "I need to go out" and it doesn't mean "I'm hungry" or "lets go to bed"...it's a very clear suggestion that we go for a walk. When I ask her for confirmation of the request she leaps around for a minute or two just like she did six years ago when she was a puppy. I go to the little drawer where I keep her leash...as well as the corkscrew, which causes some confusion for her at odd times,  and she sits down patiently while I slip it over her head (the leash..not the wine opener.) Her leash was passed down from two Woofs ago and it used to be pink...that was Woof #4"s favorite color. Now it's kinda gray, and worn, but any new collar that I've tried is quickly rejected...as though I'm trying to choke her with some Bison yoke.

She prances and dances down the street with me and we pass first the new neighbors who fight a lot and watch different programs on different tv sets on different floors. Sometimes our Polish neighbor whom we met by sharing a little mountain of mushroom compost one Spring and who whistles all the while he works in his pristine vegetable garden. He waves hello with a big "Hi!" to Woof and we keep moving. As we round the corner at the bottom of the street we can hear the chatter from the outdoor diners at the Italian restaurant...people love the BYOB idea there and they bring a lot. We can smell the garlic in the air and Woof would love to stop in...but we keep moving towards her favorite rest stop...the corner Donut shop. The owner is a boxer lover who drops whatever she's doing when she sees us and runs out to hug my dog...not me.

On those times when someone different is working Woof is inconsolable. I try to explain about people having time off, but she still doesn't get it.

We pass the house where the Jack Russell jumps against the front window, the house that kept their Christmas lights up until February, the house that the family lost and had to move away with their little boy and their big dog that was Woof's good friend...and we both feel bad.

In twenty minutes Woof and I have discussed the elections, world peace, and why my partner forgot to put the ham in the oven on Sunday. We're back home in about twenty minutes, I'm ready to watch Rachel, and Woof is ready to put her pajamas on. All's right with the world.