Talking to the Dogs

"Hey Goddess! This is supposed to be exercise!"

"Christ!" I tell myself, "I'm talking to a dog."

My dog doesn't walk. She meanders. Her nose is buried in a clump of clover that is growing beside the marsh. I sigh. There is no moving her along. She slowly sniffs her way following wherever the scents take her. And me. While I hold on to the leash, this is her walk.

She darts this way and that, pulls me backwards for a scent that we evidently missed when we first walked by, and I wonder if one of my arms is now longer than the other.

We finally make it to back river and I drop the leash as she races for Shirley's dock. When she was a puppy she was afraid to make her way to the end but now she runs to the end and wait on me. This is official petting break time. After I pet her and she wags her tail we resume the walk.

Turning the corner she sees our neighbor Art and again almost pulls my arm out of its socket. Art feeds her treats and Goddess takes a break while he and I talk.

Then we begin again and Goddess meanders this way and that letting her nose lead the way. She's never met a pile of dog crap that she didn't think merited investigation. And more often than not she will pee on top of it as though to say "Take that!"

When I was in college I worked at a veternary clinic. Every morening at 7:30 I would arrive and clean the cages. It was not a glamorous part of the business but for the better part of four years here there I was.

So I never imagined that I would own, or love, a dog. It was Julie's idea and she found Goddess. I had wanted to name her "God" because it is dog spelled backwards. And that she is a bitch and I thought that it would send a strong theological message that God can indeed be a woman! Anyway I lost that fight and we compromised with Goddess.

So now she is my constant companion and I love her deeply. She loves me back by crawling under me when I try to do push-ups and licking my face. She loves to nuzzle beside me as I write and she is fond of putting one paw on top of one of my feet. How can you not love that?

So I tolerate her meandering. It is the least that I can do because she brings love to this house. And everybody needs that.