Some people find taking their dog for a walk to be an enjoyable pastime. I am not one of them. I watch in a state of open mouthed astonishment as I see neighbors walking dogs of all shapes and sizes up and down the street. The owners seem calm and their dogs trot contentedly by their side, tails high.
My big dog, the effervescent Ali, loves to take walks. She loves walks so much that if she even hears the “w” word she goes berserk; she goes so crazy that we forbid guests to utter the “w” word if Ali is within earshot, but some people just won’t follow instructions, such as over the holidays when my sister said, “The parking garage at Galleria was so full I had to walk a mile to get to Macy’s.” My sister was not ready for what happened next. Ali raced in from the family room, effortlessly leaped over the sofa and began hopping around the dining room like a kangaroo.
“Thanks,” I muttered to my sister, who, wide eyed, was looking for an escape route. “Now I have to w-a-l-k her.”
“She’s out of control,” said my sister sternly. “I thought you took her to obedience school.”
“She graduated with honors,” I said, which is no lie, because Ali is very well behaved around the house — but put her leash on and all resemblance to any dog – living or dead- comes to a halt. ALi clearly regards her walks as an opportunity to meet and greet new friends wth two legs, four legs, feathers or scales. They generally do not reciprocate her enthusiasm.
Now, as I opened the front door and was saying good bye to my sister Ali took off at gallop down the driveway, her 75 pounds of pure muscle pulling my 200 pound self as effortlessly as a knife goes through warm butter. Then she took off down the street at a dead run while I futilely pulled back on the leash and said things like, “No, no” and “heal,” and “easy, Girl,” and, “Ali, please!” all of which she ignored.
Eventually Ali settled in to a fast trot, me gasping slightly behind her, until she saw an older man on a bicycle coming toward us. Then, ever friendly, she charged over to greet him, so startling him that he almost fell off his bike. He glared at me and kept going, clearly never noticing that her tail was wagging the whole time.
Next two runners came towards us; they wisely changed to the other side of the road but as they passed, Ali, without slowing down did a complete 180 forcing me to pirouette madly and ensuring that my rotator cuff will never be the same again.
A minute later we saw my neighbor Penny walking with her two tiny little yip-yip dogs; I’m not sure what kind of dogs they are, to me they both look like rats, but then so does Penny, and I braced for what was coming.
Ali saw Penny’s dogs and instantly went into her marlin imitation: She took off at a full gallop and then went airborne straining her leash, and what was left of my shoulder, to their max. I dug my heels in and held the leash with both hands as Ali jumped and bucked while Penny and her pooches stopped and watched with horror.
With an effort I controlled Ali long enough to let Penny pass, even managing a nonchalant, “Good morning,” as they went by.
“That dog needs obedience school,” said Penny severely.
I was all set to say something clever but then Ali , staring straight ahead, came to a complete stop. That’s when my heart skipped a beat; she had just spied a huge iguana, sunning itself on the sidewalk.