THE WALK

In reading books on dog training, and watching Victoria on “It’s Me or the Dog” or Cesar Millan, “The Dog Whisperer”, one basic becomes very clear. Dogs need to walk. (An aside – it’s a lot more fun to watch Victoria with her English accent, her little sports car and her naughty leather tights.) They are meant to walk. Like Millan says, “Birds fly, fish swim, dogs walk.” They need to go out with the pack daily at least and explore their territory. It’s “Reading the Sniffington Post.”

Before Winston came into our lives, we were looking for a house and one of the qualifications was that it had to have a yard for a dog. Well, the economy sunk the whole house idea, and in retrospect, it may have been for the best. We still live in our townhouse, so every time Winston needs to go out, we have to leash him up and go with him. We can't just boot him out to the back yard and call it good.

We take him for long walks twice a day, after breakfast and after dinner. Additionally, we take him out for pee breaks and short walks at least 3 or 4 times a day. This has the side benefit of getting us outside and exercising. I’ve lost 5 lbs. since we got Winston and it’s because of the daily walking.

We’ve also come to know and appreciate our community and our neighbors. Our complex is like a park in the middle of an urban area. We have 7 fenced acres of forest and native shrubs, fir, pine, cedar, and salal, holly and rhododendrons. There’s a mountain trail that goes around the outskirts of most of the property. Winston and I love to walk it on our morning rounds. I appreciate how beautiful and peaceful it is, and note the changes brought by the seasons and the constantly changing weather. Winston is on the alert for the hated squirrels, birds and bugs to eat. This is where he learned to stay away from yellow jacket nests. Also, he wants to smell the news left behind by other dogs in the community, and I let him take the time to do this.

Just to the west of our property, there is a city right-away that our community association, with the help of the city of Shoreline, has turned into a very nice trail. Before the association took on the project, the area had a small, muddy trail through it, and it was overgrown with blackberries and full of litter. Groups of low lifes used it sex, drinking and drug use. There were fights. People were afraid to go there, especially after dark, and the police even advised single women to stay away. Now the neighborhood takes great pride in the trail, with it’s paved path, mowed lawn, and gardens of native plants in bark mulch donated by the city and spread by volunteers, including me. No litter, no blackberries, no one lurking in the shadows. (Political plug – vote yes for Shoreline Prop 1 so we can continue to do this kind of thing.)

At the trail, Winston likes to climb one of the big boulders, check out the grassy drainage channel, roll in intoxicating smells on the lawn, and poop under the wild roses. There’s one special place in the ivy where he likes to sniff, then paw with his back legs (where did he learn to do that?), then suddenly leap back onto the lawn.

On our way back home, we walk on the sidewalk outside the gate. This is where we practice our “walkies.” I throw back my shoulders, put my head up, shorten his leash and WALK. Winston has to walk next to me nicely with no marmaduking around. No going after skateboarders, bikers or other dogs. For walking nicely he gets a treat. For not walking nicely, he gets me nagging at him, “Winston, walkies! Walkies!” and he gets a tug on the leash. He’s getting better all the time, and it's a pleasure to walk him.