neighbors

Picture this: 5:30 on a rainy cool Saturday in May, with a light breeze shaking drips off the shady maples that overhang the street, and all the flowers fresh-faced from their showers. The air smells like Eden, and a man and his dog could walk for miles. So the bearded gentleman with his big yellow mongrel on a leash both feel (and rightly so) that they own the morning. He's strolling, and the dog is sniffing, and as they come past our house, he must feel my eyes on him, because he glances up. I'm sitting in my office, Lights on in the darkish morning, laptop in place, bathrobe and hair in disarray, cup of tea in hand. We make eye contact. I grin and wave. He looks astonished to find another human being alive in this brave new world. He breaks stride, trying to think if he knows me, gives an uncertain smile and a little half-wave. Then he connects the idea of my lawn with his large dog and suddenly drags the beast across the street lest it should befoul my frontage. And they hustle out of my line of sight.

later, a small woman with two large dogs on leash walks by, makes eye-contact. I smile & wave. She waves back. There are two plastic bags in her hand. She has already picked up after her pets.

A young woman with three dogs walks by. She has leopard print galoshes & a leopard print hooded poncho. The big shepherd-cross dog is wearing a collar and a leash and a cocky, self-assured gait. The smaller, spaniel-sized dog is wearing collar, leash, and a loepard-print coat to match the owner's poncho and boots. This dog is embarassed to death and hopes his friends don't see him. The little fluffy dog is wearing leopard print with pride and insousiance, and has a human on the leash to add to his consequence. Ms Leopard print looks neither to left nor to right as the dogs tow her along the street.

The biker from a few blocks away passes with his white wolf-hybid. I smile and wave, and he waves back. Dogs are great at making introductions, and this dog gets his person out at least three times a day.

The man with the three-legged doberman jogs past. The dog just loves to run and hates to pause even to say hello. Sort of a canine Lance Armstrong.

The 90 year-old woman with her fat little pug creeps past. She can't see as far as the front of the house, so I don't bother waving. She walks three miles a day, every day. Her body is failing, but her spirit is indomitable. Her pug sometimes sits down and pants for a while before he will agree to walk any further, and she waits patiently while he gets his breath back.

I am a cat person, but there is definitely something to be said for a dog that needs to be walked. I've watched cats taking a walk, and unless they are headed home to the food bowl, they meander. They have their own paths and destinations all pre-determined and would bitterly resent my company. Dogs are so happy to have you along that they will go anywhere you like. I have a vision of trying to walk any of my cats on a leash. First put on the harness. The cat lies like a lump of dough and practices complete passive-resistance. Maybe Pepper, making the connection between leash and outdoors, would consent to walk out. The next picture would be of her darting under a bush and twining the leash inextricably around the twiggery so that there is no recourse but to release her from it. And awayyyy she goes! Picture Roxie, standing under a maple tree, looking up with leash in hand, trying to make a sound like a can of tunafish.