Long Walks on Cold Days

It’s an absolutely gorgeous day despite what the thermometer says.

A long walk on a cold day is meditative. There’s a rhythm to it, from the wind blowing against my winter outerwear to the cars driving by, Pearl zig-zagging across the sidewalk to sniff and inspect and pee on strategically important locations in the Chandler Street Dogiverse.

The sun is bright and the air pleasingly sharp against the exposed skin of my face as we reach the field. A few of the regulars are there, chatting casually as their dogs play, and Pearl runs to greet the humans before their dogs. She can’t play at puppy speed anymore. Instead, she leans and accepts rubs and scratches before laying down on a patch of frozen snow with a big smile on her face, front paws crossed in content. She’s the OG at the unofficial dog park now, the elder keeping watch. Seasons change.

We walk along the trail, the crunch of frozen dirt loud in the quiet. She ducks in & out of the little patch of woods, chasing scents, happy to be following her nose and nothing more. I’m happy just to watch her be a dog.

These walks are as much for me as they are for her. Maybe more so at times when the usual mix of work and family and relationships and life’s mundane shit are supplemented with mishaps and misunderstandings and the frustration builds to unhealthy levels — that’s when these walks are most valuable.

I’ve had a dog for 10 years, save for the 6 months between Maxine’s death and Pearl’s adoption. They’ve been with me through some of the darkest chapters and at times were all that stood between me and oblivion and the thousands of miles we’ve walked together kept that gap wide enough to avoid falling in.

Bundle up & go for a walk today. Happy Sunday. 🕊❤️