Valley Poodle

Posted in Uncategorized on 12/16/2011 12:28 pm by admin

Valley Poodle
Valley+Poodle

Walking the Dog by Candace Hardy

Whether it's sunny or rainy, pleasantly warm or freezing cold, a work day or a day off, you'll find my dog and me, usually around six AM, jogging or walking in our neighborhood. It is the best part of my day. If that makes my life seem small and dull, perhaps it is. I meditate, write, exercise, work, go out with friends, read. It's normally uneventful. But I savor those early mornings, with my dog, on the streets in my neighborhood, alone, quiet, and at peace. Often I daydream. Neighbors' reworked yards inspire dreams of landscaping my own grass and weed "dog yard." Looking at houses conjures a picture of my house a different color, with some real furniture on the front porch and an atrium, or a meditation garden, or a huge vegetable garden. Once in a while a drive to a trail brings fresh air and a breathtaking view, but usually we trot along the same route, in the same neighborhood, where my dogs and I have jogged for twenty years. And yet, it's precious time spent with my creator, other crazy dog people, and the hoofing and huffing that blows away the negative thoughts and problems, the ordinary streets and houses and parks that somehow bring forth solutions and ideas. The lonely daily slog makes me appreciate just putting one foot in front of the other and breathing.

In part, I jog to maintain my weight. Daily exercise helps, and if it's done in the morning, that's one thing off the list for the day. However, I don't jog mainly for health, at least not physical health. For one thing, there are the endorphins. My attitude and mood improve, problems that come up during the day seem smaller, my reactions more moderate, my patience enhanced, my outlook brighter. It's difficult to be angry, upset and negative when galloping down the street, breathing hard. Jogging brings serenity, an openness that allows others their opinions, and a feeling that all is well no matter my opinion about it. The ordinary streets, the plain houses, the everyday yards, parks, people, dogs, tennis games, skate boards, scooters, soccer games, and bicycles call up harmony, as do the birds, the cats, the squirrels and the other dogs.

On our way, we say hello to our friend Ginger, the chocolate lab, and his person, whose name I don't know. If the tennis courts are free, we stop there to practice our rally exercises and our circle work for agility. We use the low bar on the par course as a jump and the low flat level of the kids' gym for our down and stay table. We see our other friends, the shelty, the golden, the American standard, the Boston, the mini poodle, the Irish setter. Some dog owners walk together around the park, chatting and letting their dogs sniff and socialize. But I do not want to socialize at six in the morning. I want exercise and quiet. We say hi and move on.

Most mornings are uneventful. I jog, breathe, meditate, dream, train my dog, and stop so the dog can sniff. But the tranquility and optimism I get from our outings lasts all day--usually. My favorite mornings are the sunny warm summer mornings, but I also love the loneliness of the cold, dark winter mornings. One black morning when we had just moved to a new area, we were out for our run, when I saw two large white eyes coming at us. Calm down, I told myself. What do you think it is--a flying saucer? You're not crazy--usually. Just stop and see what it is. My heart was pounding and I was sweating in the cold. My dog did not seem worried. The thing slowed and swerved, then sped up, then swerved again. What the . . . ? As the thing got closer I could see scissor hands in front of it. I saw them pause and scoop up a clump of grass from the street. Ahhh . . . this space ship was picking up yard waste.

Usually, though, it's just one foot in front of the other. When we hike in the nearby hills, we stop at the top and look at the valley below. We might see a deer or a fox. Other times when we walk the Baylands, I imagine we live in a Thoreau cabin near the water, canoeing the waterways. One trail follows the freeway, with noise and bridges, scattered among the trees and water and parks. But I still am calm and happy when I finish; so's my dog, by all indication.

For some reason, I enjoy the ordinary walk around my neighborhood the most. It is not scenic. First, we pass the inexpensive apartments. Some of them look like hotels. In the summer, their doors open, revealing worn sofas and postage stamp kitchens. Around the corner are the "starter homes," boxy places with weedy lawns and carports. Next are the "McMansions," huge homes with tiny yards and minimal look-alike landscaping. Crossing the street is sometimes a challenge; the park is next to a middle school. At seven the street is gridlocked with minivans dropping off kids; the sidewalks are blocked with tweens in their designer jeans, flipping their hair or riding their skateboards. The park itself is small. There are tennis courts, a small swing set, and a large lawn surrounded by a par course. Sometimes I imagine that the grassy area is my yard and the large building in the distance with the tall steeped roof, the gym I think, is my barn. The "barn" has been under construction--again--for the last year or so. As we leave the park, we come to one of my dog's favorite sniffing yards. We pause there, and then we're back to the starter houses, the McMansions, the apartments and home. It's so ordinary, yet it gives me a sense of calm as I start each day. It's my precious time with myself, my dog, my God, the trees, flowers, lawns, the joy of movement, and the contentment of early morning silence. I need my jog to start my day as much as I need coffee--almost.

About the Author

Candace Hardy writes and walks her dog in Sunnyvale, CA. She is also an ESL teacher and a dog trainer. Her hobbies include camping and hiking. Visit her at http://www.snowdogtraining.com.