okay, now which one of you genius readers can guess that lyric??? Prize is the same - my pure admiration - cuz that's all I got to give! I've just decided this is going to be a November thing. Stay tuned...
Walking the dog has become a whole new adventure. It used to mean harnessing him up and going for a nice mannerly walk around the block, or various combinations of loopy subdivision blocks, on the sidewalk. I always had a bag in my pocket to carry the poop home in, because that's how you do it.
Now, going for a walk means running in circles, sniffing, barking, running, crapping in the long grass, and more sniffing.
I wonder if he misses finding all those messages from other dogs in the neighbourhood. I imagined him sniffing and his little puggy brain going, "That's Rocky. Before that Monty was here."
What does he smell now? Does he detect Moe the barn cat on his most recent hunting trip? Does he find all those sneaky nocturnal critters we never see?
I've been keeping busy lately getting the old scrapyard cleaned up before winter. When I was a kid, and my Dad supplemented the farm income by painting cars, we had quite a few parts cars and wreckers in the bottom of the yard. Now I go for dog walks and come back with handfuls of radio knobs, hoses, door handles. I got the eagle eye for this stuff; I can spot weatherstripping hiding in the short grass from several feet away. I used to want to be an archaeologist. I imagined myself digging treasures out of the Egyptian sand. Now I dig junk out of the Ontario clay. It's still fun.
Everything is interesting to this dog of mine. Everything. I don't know what he sees or smells, but he sure gets excited about those treks around the yard. It's like a two acre dog playground.
The yard looks better every day, the dog is slim and trim, and winter's coming. In his first three years, winter at the farm has meant leashed walks around the lane way and quick dashes to the lilac bush for nature calls. This year will be different. The little house dog has figured out where the property line is, where his territory ends, and what happens if he steps over the line.
I worried how the town dog would transition to becoming a farm dog, but I'm not worried anymore. I mean, I still have to keep an eye on him. There's a lot of traffic around here and he's small. I don't want him to get hit. Plus, just because he knows he's not allowed in the horse pasture doesn't mean he'll never sneak in there. Those smells are just so tempting. But he's doing great. I'm expecting this winter that we'll pack down a few trails through the huge snowdrifts and possibly have a little bit of fun with it.
Of course, there's always the possibility of finding messages from sneaky critters who don't want to be seen... I'm sure the little dog'll find things to take care of.