Mike and I started walking about three miles each morning with our dog, Gordon. If you have a dog, you know that if you do something twice in a row, you’re in a pattern. If you have a dog, don’t start something with the dog if you don’t plan on doing it for the rest of your life at exactly the same time of day and in exactly the same way.
The first few mornings were fine. We were into our new exercise routine. We even looked forward to it. But after a few days, our joints and muscles started to get a little tired, and we thought maybe we should take a day off to rest.
The day we decided to take a break from walking, I woke up in the morning and sat at my desk. About the time we would usually be getting ready for our walk, I heard a rustling noise behind me. I turned around and saw this:
Ignore him, I thought. I turned back and tried to go back to work, hoping he would go away. That’s when I heard an annoyed little grunt. I turned to see from where it came.
I turned around and tried to go back to work. The back of my neck started to feel hot. I think Gordon actually stared lasers into the base of my skull. I heard a little foot stomp, coupled with yet another grunt. I ignored it.
It got quiet. Thinking Gordon must have given up and laid down, I turned to sneak a peek.
I sighed. I know I am no match for his dog-will. I decided to give in and go for the damn walk. Glowering at him, my hips already aching, I ask:
Do you want to go for a walk?
What’s that Mommy? A walk? What a novel idea. Why yes, I would like to go to a walk. Thank you for thinking of that, I never would have come up with it on my own.
It has been 12 straight days of walking. Mike and I are tired. But what can you do with that face staring beams of pure guilt straight into your soul?
I can only pray for rain.