My dogs have a routine. Just like their human companions, they thrive on love, guidance and protection. This is not to say they cannot wake up one day with a little crankiness or what we call in Spanish, waking up with the left foot.
Their lives are dictated by routines, and being creatures of habit like most of us, they have learned to recognize the subtle ways of passing time, the unfolding of precious hours of leisure or boredom, until I come home from work and they are excited again for what follows: the evening routine.
My dogs have adapted wonderfully, I must say, to their new and constrained living quarters. Whereas before they had a suburban haven, a four-bedroom, two-story house to themselves where they spent their days napping blissfully and sunbathing by the windows, now they are confined to a 600 square foot loft in the middle of a bustling city.
I will never understand why dogs love walks so much, even my oldest dog which sometimes limps and is quite old, seems ready to welcome another monotonous day ahead and enjoys the sweetness of routine interactions which are part of her walk. Leaving our building enlivens them. On occasions, we encounter dogs returning from their walks and I cannot help but think theirs is over while mine’s are just beginning. Sweet walk ahead.
We walk impatiently towards the Building Museum, which has a big lawn, and is a plus in this part of town called the Land of the Lofts. This is doggy heaven, where neighborhood dogs come to do their business. As soon as she is out the door, my oldest dog fixates her nose and eyes on the food crumbles she will make it a point to find in her path ahead. Sometimes, I feel embarrassed by her annoying habits of eating anything off the floor, straining her leash to get to some food particle stuck between the concrete ridges of the sidewalk. She is not starving, I keep telling myself, just obsessive about food. My younger dog is a rambunctious male terrier, who weighs no more than 13 pounds and howls at every other passing dog and loud truck. This is the second embarrassment of the walk I have to face. Most dog owners in this area have pretty well-behaved dogs, or they have never had a Jack Russell Terrier. I do hope it’s the latter, because if not, I easily become the embarrassment of the block.
Once on the grass, my dogs do their business. They smell, they pee, they rub their bodies in the grass. I have seen them get curious over bees, and butterflies and squirrels and birds. It strikes me as funny when they see something up ahead and cannot decipher what it is; they slowly approach the suspicious item, which can be anything from an empty bucket to a curled up bag, with such caution that you feel their bodies tense up and their ears perked up. When it’s nothing, and it usually is, one sniff diffuses the situation. However one time, I failed to react fast enough when my JRT snatched a young opossum from inside a trash can.
After returning from their morning walk, it is breakfast time, followed by nap time while I organize the house and get ready for work. They spend the entire days alone, God knows doing what, until I come home from work and take them out for their second walk. Now this one is a tricky one, because everyone else is coming from work and doing the same thing. All these dogs are out, some are anxious from being left alone, others cranky because someone forgot to leave out their favorite toy and others just plain hungry. After dinner, the last walk is followed by bedtime.
Their lives are dictated by routines, and being creatures of habit like most of us, they have learned to recognize the subtle ways of passing time, the unfolding of precious hours of leisure or boredom, until I come home from work and they are excited again for what follows: the evening routine.
My dogs have adapted wonderfully, I must say, to their new and constrained living quarters. Whereas before they had a suburban haven, a four-bedroom, two-story house to themselves where they spent their days napping blissfully and sunbathing by the windows, now they are confined to a 600 square foot loft in the middle of a bustling city.
I will never understand why dogs love walks so much, even my oldest dog which sometimes limps and is quite old, seems ready to welcome another monotonous day ahead and enjoys the sweetness of routine interactions which are part of her walk. Leaving our building enlivens them. On occasions, we encounter dogs returning from their walks and I cannot help but think theirs is over while mine’s are just beginning. Sweet walk ahead.
We walk impatiently towards the Building Museum, which has a big lawn, and is a plus in this part of town called the Land of the Lofts. This is doggy heaven, where neighborhood dogs come to do their business. As soon as she is out the door, my oldest dog fixates her nose and eyes on the food crumbles she will make it a point to find in her path ahead. Sometimes, I feel embarrassed by her annoying habits of eating anything off the floor, straining her leash to get to some food particle stuck between the concrete ridges of the sidewalk. She is not starving, I keep telling myself, just obsessive about food. My younger dog is a rambunctious male terrier, who weighs no more than 13 pounds and howls at every other passing dog and loud truck. This is the second embarrassment of the walk I have to face. Most dog owners in this area have pretty well-behaved dogs, or they have never had a Jack Russell Terrier. I do hope it’s the latter, because if not, I easily become the embarrassment of the block.
Once on the grass, my dogs do their business. They smell, they pee, they rub their bodies in the grass. I have seen them get curious over bees, and butterflies and squirrels and birds. It strikes me as funny when they see something up ahead and cannot decipher what it is; they slowly approach the suspicious item, which can be anything from an empty bucket to a curled up bag, with such caution that you feel their bodies tense up and their ears perked up. When it’s nothing, and it usually is, one sniff diffuses the situation. However one time, I failed to react fast enough when my JRT snatched a young opossum from inside a trash can.
After returning from their morning walk, it is breakfast time, followed by nap time while I organize the house and get ready for work. They spend the entire days alone, God knows doing what, until I come home from work and take them out for their second walk. Now this one is a tricky one, because everyone else is coming from work and doing the same thing. All these dogs are out, some are anxious from being left alone, others cranky because someone forgot to leave out their favorite toy and others just plain hungry. After dinner, the last walk is followed by bedtime.
Some people say that dogs resemble their owners in many quirky ways. Some may even boast physical similarities, while others are content to copy our behaviors, not to mention that almost all of them learn to read our moods which they use as a jumping board to interact with others. My dogs are amazing creatures; they don’t ask for much and hardly ever complain about the tedious routine they are subjected to everyday. The least I can do is take them out for long walks, play catch, meet other dogs, bring them in the car when doing car errands and give them lots of affection. At the end of the day the walk is a powerful bonding tool.
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