Oh, wait ... not all dogs. But definitely mine. Whereas the dogs look forward to walkies as the absolute best time of the day, their puppy mama (me) approaches walkies as being led to the gallows. Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but I definitely have apprehension. After all, it is one of these dogs that I tripped over, breaking my elbow a few years back (and no, I didn't see which one - if I'd seen the dog, I wouldn't have tripped over her).
Now, once I decide to take my dogs for a walk, it's a very real commitment. I put my sneakers on and look up to see the dogs walking in circles of anticipation. They're hopeful, but not yet certain. Next, I put my cell phone in my pocket, followed by my keys. By the time I grab the poop pickup bags, the dogs are in a frantic state that reminds me of a feeding frenzy you would see on a Nat Geo channel special.
I'd love to be able to take both dogs at once, but though I stare jealously at others who mosey along with two or three dogs walking leisurely at their side, that is not my lot in life. Wanting to get the harder walk over with, I take Daphne, the epileptic shepherd mix, first. I attach her breakaway collar (a must if you have multiple dogs that play together, IMO), harness (not easy to put on a manic dog), and choker chain. I'm not a fan of the choker, but little-miss-escape-artist makes it a necessity. I like the security of knowing that if she slips her halter (which she has done in the past), I have the other leash to fall back on. Daphne is so committed to her walk, that once I attach the leashes, nothing short of walking a few blocks will get her back in the house (meaning I'd better not forget anything because there's no turning back once we're through the door).
We step out onto the front step and I have the dog wait while I lock the door. With all of my dog-walking gear and my pup sitting at my side on the top of the steps, I look pro. I take a deep breath and think to myself, "Watch out, Dog Whisperer. Here comes Amy." With that Daphne launches off the stoop. With a death grip on her leash, I fly after her, sometimes achieving a near-horizontal position in mid-air. However, my "Superman" imitation doesn't last long. Gravity takes over and I crash to the ground, still being dragged along behind my impatient dog. You'd think she'd be happy and content, but no sooner do we leave our property when Miss I-have-to-get-out suddenly becomes apprehensive. Her tail drops and she sniffs every inch of the ground, checking for signs of danger as she continues to drag me behind her at a fast clip. The only plus here is that I am finally able to right myself and regain some of my shredded dignity. I am ever vigilant for signs of an impending seizure.
We continue down the block until we arrive at the first house where another dog is in residence. Daphne knows well which houses these are, and starts looking to them when we are still two or three houses away. She loves to play and the only thing that can take her mind off of her walk apprehension is the possibility that one of these dogs will suddenly run out to her. The once tucked-between-her-legs tail is now wagging and she is straining to the end of the leashes with the resistance of me at the other end of the leash causing her to rear up on her hind legs. (As always, my puppy's dream is my nightmare. The one time some loose dogs did run out to her she ran around in circles with them until the leashes were wrapped around my legs, rendering me unable to move.)
The only way to propel her past these homes is to walk briskly ahead of her, tugging on the leash. She gets the hint and runs alongside me, but never takes her eyes off the house. She bends herself into a seemingly impossible 90 degree or greater angle so she can watch the windows. Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to understand instructions/words such as "look where you're going", "signpost" or "parked car", which sometimes results in an unfortunate meeting between distracted dog and immovable object. Should we encounter someone else walking a dog, the outcome is much the same. I've got all sorts of tricks to try to deal with those situations, such as waiting on the side of a parked car until the other dog has passed, with varying success.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I finally return home with Daphne, having had no falls or other harrowing experiences. As we get close to the house, my lab mix can be heard. As far as I can tell, she barks for the duration of Daphne's walk, because she starts when I close the door and I hear her from a few houses down when I return. I think she's saying, "You forgot me ... you forgot me ... you forgot me," but that's just a guess.
I attach the leashes to Laney's harness and head out with her. Daphne takes up residence in the bay window to watch our progress, but at least she doesn't bark. Laney is fun to walk. She sits automatically when we reach the curb, doesn't pull and watches where she is going (a big plus).
However, that does not mean that our walks are without the occasional mishap. For starters, Laney is not a fan of trucks. As soon as a truck gets near, she starts running around in circles, spinning me with her. Truthfully, I'm afraid that the trainer who signed Laney's obedience certificate is going to show up during one of these episodes and demand its return.
Then there's the matter of sprinklers. She goes nuts at the feel of one teensy weensy, little drop of water landing on her fur. I though labs were supposed to like water. I try to put her in a nice heel and pass the sprinkler just off the curb where she won't get wet, but she moves her head back and forth nervously between the sprinkler and the road, looking like sped up footage of a spectator at a tennis match.
However, all of that pales in comparison to picking up after her. Laney has perfected that art of the moving poo. The only way to get it all is to stand behind her holding the bag out to catch it. That worked for a time, but she has since decided that I am chasing her and now keeps jumping to the side to keep out of my reach, all the while still conducting her business. This resulted in the ultimate humiliation of having her yank the leash and pull me off balance. As if in slow motion, I was helpless to stop myself from rolling onto my back. And sadly, yes, I think there was at least one witness to my ungraceful, less than coordinated surprise meeting with the sidewalk (which reminded me of the time a boss told me she'd fallen while out jogging and when she returned home all bruised and battered, her daughter exclaimed, "Oh, my God, Mom. Did anyone see you?").
So, my dogs have lots of walkies experience and have both completed obedience training, but it remains much better (and healthier) for me, if we don't encounter strangers or other dogs on our walk. This is why I was very interested to learn about this: Some dogs need space.
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