So Much For Walking Meditation!

I've been meaning to start walking again for awhile now and today was the day. I'd like to lose the extra weight I put on in seminary (or, rather, on the 4-hour drive between seminary and home, during which I munched on junk to keep myself awake and stave off boredom) and I'd also like to use the time to connect with Spirit. My friend Gene, who has walked every day since last February, has inspired me to make the time for mindful walking now rather than later. Why I thought it would be a good idea to do this with a willful 80-pound Rottweiler-Dobie mix today is beyond me.

Mindful walking is a wonderful way to connect with God and all that God does in the world. However, there is no such thing as mindful walking with a dingbat...I mean, dog. Or perhaps there is, for people who like the whole dog ownership thing. I am a cat person, through and through, and can easily meditate with a cat bathing next to me. This doesn't mean I don't like dogs. On the contrary, I adore other people's dogs. I admire Leo, my aunt & uncle's Golden, immensely and think he is beautiful. Starr, his housemate, another Golden, is adorably naughty and happy-go-lucky, with her tongue generally slung out the side of her mouth. My heart melts when Faith, my auntie's long-haired Dachshund, grins at me and I just love her brother, Rowdy's, fabulously venerable little face. I woke up in tears the other morning because I dreamed my cousins' amazingly cool wolf dog, Xavier, died and I am planning to spend my Halloween afternoon at the pooch parade. In short, I like dogs, just not the tedium of owning one. However, my wife wanted a dog and I felt grinchly not letting her have one ever again for the rest of our lives, so I caved. Sigh. I caved. How could I?

So, my walk with Harley (who is, by the way, an unusually well-behaved dog, really) today started out not mindfully, but pleasantly enough. She'd been guffing me all morning to go for a walk, having neglected to poop on either of the two walks my dearest darling wife (her real owner) took her on this morning. Oh, no, she had to complain to me all morning instead. By the time we entered the walking trail, she had done her thing, though, and I had gratefully made a deposit in the trash can nearby. We enjoyed a stroll through a neighborhood that looks like the sort where I'd eventually like to live and were headed back on the walking trail when I saw another dog. Not wanting to alarm the owner with Harley's enthusiasm and not sure how the other dog was with fellow canines, I took Harley off the path in hopes of distracting her with the lure of the woods edge. Did my ever-so-brilliant tactic work? Oh, no, of course not. Rather, it only succeeded in getting my sneakers all dirty, my socks damp and a rather large swath of mud deposited on my freshly-washed jeans by Harley's leaping attempt to go play with the other dog. Oy vey! Why can't dogs only have to go out when the people who actually want them in the household are home and not busy? (Did I mention walking Harley last night so my love could complete some online tutorials for work?)

I am clearly not cut out for this dog thing. So, for tomorrow's walk, it will be just me and God. Harley can stay home and annoy the cats. Today, I will smooth down my ruffled feathers with a trip to the library for chick flicks and then dress in my Halloween costume (myself as a teenager---pictures to come, I hope!) to go tutor.