Walk, Dang It!
I’ve recently begun writing each morning to a set of prompts with some friends. From time to time I’ll share them here. If you’re so inclined, please join us! Write whatever you like around the prompt each time I post. Please! I know I’m not the only one who loves these.
The word this morning is “walk”. Feel free to take off and write in any direction. There are no wrong responses! Don’t worry about form or grammar. Just do it!
"Let's go for a walk!" These are words we've learned to use cautiously, sparingly, and at the appointed time only. The dogs understand them, you see, and once uttered it's hard to put that genie back in the bottle.
It wasn't always that way. There was a time when they were free-range doggies. We moved here from our hobby farm almost two years ago. Chores like cleaning stalls and paddocks in the snow and weed-whacking fence lines were getting harder as we got older. So, we sold the place and moved to a subdivision nearby. Our yard went from expansive to microscopic overnight and the dogs, frankly, are bored here.
Used to be on the farm when we opened the back door early in the morning that Tex, our indefatigable black and white border Collie would burst forth, circling the backyard at breakneck speed. Koda, a white and black, freckled Queensland was close behind her barking and snapping his teeth. Suddenly, they'd both notice something amiss in the front yard and race toward the waist-high fence, clearing it and the honeysuckle vines clinging to it before racing to the front yard's furthest corner. Then they'd come streaking back across the fence to check on us.
There's no streaking or jumping here. Instead, we have a small side yard with tall fences where they do their business. And when we take them for a walk they must be leashed. Their exuberance is tamped down and contained on the neighborhood paths. Their territorial behavior is suppressed.
I feel like a heel for having moved them to this place. For having exchanged their rough and tumble- friendly reality for this sedate, pedestrian environment. But then, if truth be told, I feel just as bad for doing that to us. For giving in to aging. For leaving a beloved lifestyle that I know I'll never live again. For taking walks on paths when my heart still sometimes aches to jump fences.
As I read my prompt aloud to the Professor this morning before posting, I realized that I'd done it. Said the word. Tex launched her now-portly body onto the couch and into my lap while Koda leaped and wiggled at my feet.
Dang it. I’d said it out loud. Walk.