My ancient Goofy Pooch is my most frequent companion. She snoozes behind me while I work at my desk. If I move to another room, she heaves herself up, mumbling, and follows me. Once there, she again flops down to nap. Days when I clean house and go from room to room are a marathon for the poor dear, and she eventually opts for going outside to lie under the crepe myrtle bush. She can spend hours wallowing in the dust and leaves, intermittently sleeping and enjoying her friends, i.e. the local squirrels, birds and other wildlife who seem to know that she would never do them any harm (a moot point at her age, but true nonetheless.) Every so often, she'll stir long enough to get a drink or check out the contents of her food dish.
She is nearly 16. This is what she does.
That is, until the leash comes off the hook. At the first hint that a walk might be in order, my geriatric canine channels her inner puppy. Her mumbling becomes an excited whine punctuated by an occasional rusty bark. She dances from side to side. Her head bobs up and down. More energy is expended getting ready for a walk than during the walk itself.
We have two routes, mapped out for their relatively flat terrain and sidewalk ramps. Goofy Pooch can no longer navigate curbs. Both routes take us beside a neighborhood pond. The other day, as I walked in slow motion beside my dog, I noticed a slight movement on the shore of the pond. A large bird (a heron perhaps?) stood alert in the shallow water a little ahead of us. If GP had seen him, she would have instantly wanted to add him to her collection of pets. She was distracted, however, by children playing on the other side of the street. The Ancient One dearly loves children, especially from a safe distance.
I, on the other hand, watched the bird. He seemed like a courtly old gentleman. As I took a step, he turned and slowly began to move ahead of us, down the side of the pond, keeping perfect pace with my dog and me. I took out my cell phone camera and got one shot (not that he's very visible in it - unlike some of my friends, I'm not a very good photographer.) He hesitated. But when I took another step forward, so did he. So did Goofy Pooch, still intent on the children. We must have been an odd sight, me facing the bird, my dog facing the people, slowly making our way up the sidewalk. Just as we got to the end of the pond, there was a burst of laughter from across the street. I turned my head - just a split second glance - but when I looked back, my stately companion had disappeared.
As we meandered back to the house, it occurred to me that I am blessed by the company I keep. Even when that company is a geriatric canine whose snores could rattle windows, or we share an unexpected walk with a dignified old bird.
