What Our Dogs Teach Us
Lately my dog has been willful. Standing next to the bed, staring at me in the early mornings until I let her jump up and get under the covers. It doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but just you try to sleep when a dog is staring at you!
When we walk in the mornings, she leads the way, even if I hold the leash. Some days it’s a bee line to the grove with squirrels she likes to chase, while others there are lots of things to smell along the way and we barely make it to the park entrance. Lately, she’s wanted to go to the park high up on a hill where there are trails through the trees. If I try to steer her another way, she puts her head down and resists. It’s no use to pull her, and our walks rarely have a destination, so I acquiesce. Besides, climbing up the steep trails provides a needed glut workout as we head for the sweeping vistas at the top.
The slope of the path doesn’t affect her speed, and she bounds up and up as soon as I let her off leash. I worry sometimes in this park about coyotes, I’ve seen one here a few times. She’s big enough not to be a snack, but doesn’t always take the hint when a creature is hostile. There are a fair number of people who camp in this park. The density of trees provides some protection from the weather and police surveillance. But not from us, as we traipse through the trails, following squirrels, birds, and smells. She follows my commands, mostly, always returning even if it takes a few tries. She can sense the urgency in my voice if I sense danger, responding more quickly and completely. So, while I’m vigilant, my anxiety about the hazards of the park is kept in check.
The other dogs and their people are generally focused on their own journey, slowing only for cursory greetings. Except for Dexter. He’s a fixture here. Sometimes as we approach the clearing at the crest of the park we hear him playing Over the Rainbow on his guitar. He’s like the mayor, he knows the names and stories of dogs and humans alike. It’d been awhile since we’d run into Dexter and it was a surprise to see him out on the trails. But, his dog Pilot passed away last year and it seems he’s been bird watching. So, when we saw him up the hill we joined him and the blue jays.
“Have you found gainful employment yet?”
I couldn’t believe he remembered this detail from a few months ago when I shared that I was leaving my position at UCSF and looking for something new. But, Dexter is also a UCSF alumni, and that shared experience is often a topic of our conversations. While our run-ins are infrequent, I always stop to talk to Dexter, even when I’m in a hurry or having one of those days when I don’t feel like talking to anyone. He always has a dog treat and doesn’t flinch when she jumps up on him to ask for seconds. When he asks how I am I tell him the truth. In response, he shares a story about his life as a native San Franciscan, we commisserate about world affairs, or he offers an encouraging word.
But for our dogs, I don’t think I would have occasion to talk to Dexter. I’m grateful that my Kinley’s stubborn insistence on climbing hills, fearlessness about what’s around the corner, and unbounded joy at treats gives me an excuse to slow down my day and connect with a neighbor while taking a walk in a park.
