Writer Confessions: The Dog Walk


Dear favorite pet,

I'm sorry that my human pace seems like a mere slog by your four-legged standards. I'm also sorry that your retractable leash only allows for several yards of freedom before forcing you to either yank my arm out of socket or speed-shame me with your disapproving snarl and tongue hanging out.

In my defense, I'm a perfectly average walker by human standards. I'm also somewhat distracted by the fact that I use our walks to revise my novel in my head. If I slow to stop and gaze mindlessly into space, it's because I'm on the verge of a plot twist break-through. Surely, you understand the inherent face-plant dangers, were I to continue my authorly daydreams while progressing over the railroad tracks at a pup-approved tempo. I fear I won't look good without teeth, which is why I take it slow.

I could tell you that my novel-coma shuffle is par for the course given all the times you've sniffed the same mailbox for minutes on end. I could also tell you that it's payback for waiting to do your business until we hit the exact farthest point away from a trash can. But I won't remind you of the trials you put me through on your walks. No, I'll simply rise above your "I'm with stupid" looks as you turn and wait for me at the end of your leash. And we'll love each other anyway. Because dogs are awesome like that.

Forever yours, 

~Your 2nd favorite owner...let's be honest, everyone knows you like your human dad better.

P.S. Yes, in the past, I have taken you for runs when I was training for a half-marathon. No, we are never voluntarily running that far again.

P.P.S. You live on a farm - go frolic with the horses if you're such a speed demon.