Dog Walker

Another morning walk with my dogs today . . . one of the gifts of a day off, since I don't have to leave the ranch right after putting my kids on the school bus. Just before I went out, while I was eating my cereal, I flipped through a popular women's magazine. In an article about maintaining a fitness routine, the author suggested finding a walking partner -- a friend to keep you motivated through the long months of winter.

I've always walked with dogs. Today, there are five who share my life; in other times, other places, only two or three. But always a dog. This morning, as I watched the five of them tumble over each other, wrestling out the kinks and stiffness from spending winter nights outside, I found myself glad to have canine, rather than human, walking companions.

For one thing, I don't have to talk to my dogs unless I want to. No need to carry on a conversation -- just the occasional "Max, come here," or "Sam, get behind," that is an integral part of training and disciplining ranch dogs. After all, these dogs also help work the cattle, so letting them misbehave during their walks with me would only lead to problems when they have real work to do . I can talk more if I want -- and I do. With my old dog, Sis, I carried on entire monologues while we hiked up mountains or through prairie pastures; she would cock her head quizzically, decide that I couldn't possibly be talking to her, and carry on her merry way. I have worked out more lesson plans, writing ideas, difficult conversations, and grocery lists that way. . .

Another reason I walk with dogs is that they are tougher exercise partners than a human could ever be. Dogs simply love to walk -- or trot, or bound, or run -- and they don't like short distances. I walk farther, faster and more often because of my dogs. I have yet to look into Maggie's eyes and be able to say, "No, not today girl," without feeling guilt. I mean, how do you tell a dog it's too cold to walk when they are outside all day long? And I know that if I don't walk with my dogs, they will hang around the ranch yard most of the day, bored and getting into mischief. I figure I'm doing my part for world peace -- or at least ranch peace -- by taking them out to run.

But once we are out there, the real rewards are for me. Dogs are pure joy, particularly when they are free to explore and play. It's hard to be worried about the budget or the deadline when walking with dogs. Dogs notice little things, things we humans are just too busy to see. This morning, they all spent several minutes sniffing around two holes in a snowbank. Had I just walked past that bank alone, I wouldn't have even noticed the holes, or I might have thought that a calf simply broke through the hard crust to the softer snow underneath. But, watching my dogs get so interested, I looked closer -- long claw marks by the holes told a different story. A badger, probably, digging for shelter from the wind, or looking for food. A human companion wouldn't have seen those faint tracks, white scratches on white snow; but dogs spend their days sniffing out the little details: they notice things.

My kids don't really like to walk, and even my husband thinks I'm a bit crazy to prefer walking to riding a horse. Since most of my neighbors live at least a few miles away, walking dates are tricky to coordinate. And I'm inherently an introvert, so I'm not likely to call one of them up anyway. Given all these facts, I'll probably find myself walking alone -- with dogs -- for many more years.

Lucky me.