By Girl Person | 2 Traveling Dogs
This is Girl Person. This morning, I was walking Fruitycake through our valley here, and I had one thing on my mind. Rain. Lots of it. The kind of rain that makes our stone steps slippery, our paths muddy and our entire mountain starts to feel very unsafe. Because it is. I wanted to get our walk finished before it started. I was watching the sky, trying to figure out how far we still had to go and mentally checking off everything else I needed to accomplish today.
Fruitycake, meanwhile, was investigating something beside the path that apparently required a full examination. I told him to come on. We needed to hurry. We had things to do. Important things. Apparently more important than whatever magnificent smell had been left on a blade of grass. And then I caught myself. What was I doing? I was walking my dog. My loud, ridiculous, always socially awkward dog who wakes up every morning believing that whatever we are about to do together is going to be the greatest adventure of his entire life. And there I was, treating that adventure like another item on a list. Something to finish. Something to get out of the way. A chore.
I looked down at Fruitycake and wondered something that made me feel terribly sad. What if he thinks he’s an obligation? What if the way I was rushing him made him feel that I didn’t want to be there? What if every time I pulled him away from an interesting smell, sighed because he was taking too long or looked impatiently toward home, I was telling him something I never intended to say? Dogs don’t need words to understand us. They study our movements, our voices, our habits and our moods. They know when we’re distracted. They notice when we’re impatient. And they certainly recognize when we’re genuinely enjoying their company. Don’t think they don’t.
We spend so much time talking about how much our dogs love us, but how often do we stop to consider how loved we make them feel? We can love our dogs more than anything in the world and still make them feel like an interruption. We can buy them the nicest beds, the healthiest food and the most expensive toys while giving them the impression that our time is something they are taking away from us. And for most dogs, their walks mean everything. We have entire worlds outside our front doors. Work, friends, messages, errands and a thousand distractions. Our dogs have a much smaller world, and we are at the center of it. That walk we’re trying to squeeze between appointments might be the most exciting part of their day. The tree they want to sniff isn’t just a tree. It’s a place where something happened. The patch of grass that seems completely unremarkable to us might contain a fascinating story told entirely through scent. And what do we do? We hurry them along because we have somewhere else to be.
Sometimes we don’t even look at them. We look at our phones. We answer messages and scroll through things that will be forgotten by tomorrow while our dogs are trying to enjoy the moment they’ve waited all day to experience with us. We say, “Come on, hurry up,” without realizing how often those words have replaced, “What did you find?” or “Isn’t this wonderful?” Of course, sometimes there really is a storm coming. Sometimes we’re exhausted, worried or overwhelmed. Dogs need walks and care whether we feel like it or not. There will always be things we do for them because we have to. That’s part of being responsible for another living being. But I think we need to examine the attitude we bring to those things. Am I doing this for my dog because I want to? Or because I have to? And even when I have to, can I make him feel that I want to be with him?
Fruitycake doesn’t understand the house sale we’re waiting on, the bills, the deadlines or the hundred different worries that follow me up and down this mountain. He doesn’t know why I sometimes feel there aren’t enough hours in the day. He only knows that Girl Person put on her walking shoes, picked up his leash and opened the door. And in his mind, something wonderful was about to happen. Who am I to turn that into a chore? I thought about the dogs sitting in shelters today, waiting for someone to take them outside. How much would they give for an extra ten minutes of walking beside someone who was happy to be with them? And how many people who have lost a beloved dog would give anything for just one more ordinary, inconvenient, rainy walk together? Sure do wish you were here Brickle and Digby. I cannot imagine that when our dogs are gone, we’ll wish we had spent less time walking them. I imagine we’ll wish we had walked a little slower.
So I stopped rushing Fruitycake. Not because the rain had disappeared or my responsibilities had become less important, but because I decided that for the next few minutes, I was going to be where I actually was. On a beautiful mountain path with a dog who wanted nothing more than to explore it with me. I watched him investigate the leaves and move his nose through the air. I let him take his time with something I will never understand because I am not a dog, although I’ve certainly spent enough time with them to qualify for honorary membership. And something wonderful happened. The walk stopped feeling like something I needed to finish and started feeling like something I was fortunate enough to be doing. Did we get caught in the rain? We sure did. And I would do it again.
I think we owe our dogs that kind of attention. Not perfection or endless hours of entertainment, but the simple reassurance that being with them is something we enjoy. That they aren’t inconveniences with four legs. That their needs aren’t interruptions to our real lives. They are part of our real lives. Some of the very best parts. So the next time you pick up your dog’s leash, ask yourself whether you’re taking your dog for a walk or sharing a walk with your dog. Those might sound like the same thing, but I don’t believe they are. And if your dog stops to smell the same bush for the fourteenth time, perhaps consider that he isn’t wasting your time. Perhaps he’s reminding you that time doesn’t always have to be used for accomplishing something. Sometimes it can simply be enjoyed.
The rain will come. The work will still be there. The messages can wait a few more minutes. But this walk, with this dog, on this particular day, will never happen again. I don’t want Fruitycake to remember me as someone who was always trying to get somewhere else. I want him to know that wherever we are together is exactly where I want to be. Even if it rains. Even if we get muddy. Even if he spends fifteen minutes investigating something that turns out to be an olive. Because I don’t ever want my dog to feel like something I have to do. I want him to feel like someone I am grateful I get to love.
Girl Person
P.S. From Girl Person
If this story made you think about your own dog today, I hope you’ll give them a few extra minutes of your undivided attention. Put the phone away. Let them sniff. Look at them when they look at you. They don’t need a perfect person. They need a person who makes them feel that their company matters.
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