“My little dog- a heartbeat at my feet.”-Edith Wharton
Richard, a handsome chihuahua, can’t weigh more than 4 pounds but his presence at the other end of my couch protects me.
My strongest instinct is to retreat. In this inclination, I’m in harmony with my dogs. They love their naps. But it’s a beautiful October day and I’ve only been outside for a few minutes. Why can’t Richard and I sit in the park?
Wait, even on a beautiful autumn day, cyclists on scooters, e-bikes, and bicycles fly down sidewalks. My dogs must be protected from the aggression of these cyclists.
On trails in the Connecticut woods, our walks are expansive. I picture our California desert adventures as being wide and full of possibilities.
Maybe my New York apprehension doesn’t have to be so tight. After all, dogs stay soft in the presence of rudeness. They see the potential for injury in growly canines not in oversized strollers pushed by oblivious mothers.
All that said, crowded New York sidewalks make me yearn for the couch we share together.
petwork/gigwork/lifework 