Hound Walk

Walking you today was a challenge. What was in that Jughead of yours? I say that with the utmost endearment, Dwight. You were quite obstinate today, randomly stopping, wide stance, feet firmly planted, looking right at me, as if saying, “done.” I felt like a tug boat pulling a barge. I had to lean forward with all my weight and pull the leash taught. The gentle harness tugging  at your chest didn’t faze you.

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The give and take on this stroll was measurable. Had a stampeding herd of buffalo just gone ahead of us and marked this as their territory? Did you sense an imminent earthquake or tornado? Perhaps you’ve been down this road a few too many times and you longed for a new path. Dwight, this walk in the woods is all shade. I was determined to avoid the heat of the sun. I can be just as stubborn as you.

I’d almost go flying when you released from the pull and stepped forward. You seemed to enjoy this game . Leash yo-yo. Bungee walking.  You surprise me every single day, Dwight. Sometimes you can be puppy playful. Very unhound like.  Dwight, the rascal, appears at the oddest times. You love to take  socks from the laundry basket, clean or dirty, and run through the house. If I don’t offer a chase, game over. The socks are abandoned. If I say “leave it”, the chase is on. You jerk your head, front paws slap the floor, and you’re off. You really do look cute with a pair of socks in your mouth. I can’t play the sock game, D Man.  I have enough trouble matching socks on laundry day.  At least now  I have a scape goat, or dog, for the missing ones.

I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a pair of socks if you “walk nice.” Sounds like a fair trade to me. Can I trust the paw shake and those brown eyes?

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