Ms. magazine had an early cover that depicted the modern superwoman circa 1973 with many arms doing and having it all; essentially bringing home the bacon and frying it up in a pan. That was pretty much me this afternoon with my baby strapped onto my body and a dog in each hand, strolling with vigor and purpose down the river path, with homemade chicken pot pie left baking at home–plus a set of cinnamon roll-ups made from the extra crust–not to even mention nursing a wound from a cream of mushroom soup can. I also had really good hair.

Cat poop consumed: no

We’re all living in the luminous now and everything, but a long walk does provide long-term benefits that one can look forward to, even while on said walk around the big field. For Jones: good citizenship. For yours truly: Vitamin D absorption and slimercising of thighs. E: nap excellence and ultimately a cheerful evening free of The Fear.

Cat poop consumed: no

A recent study claims that dogs can understand pretty large vocabularies of human words, but how exactly do dogs process new information? For example, how is it that Jones recognizes a Bubbalicious-shaped dog toy for what it is when he has never seen such a thing? When a woman passed us pushing her pod-like baby juggler, Jones was very concerned and I could see his little walnut brain working. Similar to a bicycle (not a threat), but not quite a skateboard (very threatening), so you might as well give a maybe bark just in case. I think dogs just put their faith in their humans for how to incorporate novel objects into their canine worldview. I corrected him when he gave his half-hearted growl and he complied, mostly. Our “conversation” was thus: Me: “Dog, trust and obey!” Jones: “Yea and verily, I will accept this mysterious equipment as benign although it may yet kill us.”

Cat poop consumed: yes

Today’s post is brought to you by the letters M and R:

Jones attempted to menace the mailman near Mill St. but managed to maintain a modicum of manners. Ramona refrained from running and remained at home with the rest of our relations.

Cat poop consumed: no

I didn’t know this path had a bona fide name until the Rosa Parks Path construction forced me to take a slightly different route into it and I discovered the sign. It is such a delightful name that I would walk here all the time except that the gully slash drainage ditch is on the fetid side, not to mention that the path parallels the freeway. And plus the walk back through the neighborhood has no sidewalks, which wasn’t such a big deal when it was just me and Jones but maneuvering a dog and baby juggler is more challenging. I wish I could call it a pram.

Cat poop consumed: no

Passive construction: The raccoon was hit by a car and lay dead in the shrubbery. The next day it was removed.

Active construction: Jones smelled the aroma of missing raccoon. He pulled at the leash to stop and inhale deeply.

Cat poop consumed: no

The dump smells like artisanal cheese. The bakery smells like bread. The river is swollen. It is raining. My shirt smells like an aquarium. I am very good at spitting while running.

Cat poop consumed: no

When I don’t get enough exercise I can be restless and irritable. When Jones doesn’t get enough, he pulls diaper covers out of the laundry basket and licks out the poop. That’s when it’s time for a good, long walk out to the Whilamut Natural Area. Walk down West D St. in Springfield to the bike path along the Willamette River  where the path is called the West D Street Greenway. There is a sign that says so. Go past the canoe put-in and the marker for Prefontaine’s Trail, and  a little further on slip under the underpass and you are now officially in Eugene. The twilight comes softly down over the muddy trail through the big field, but the jingling of the dog’s tags lets you know where he is. Watch for the twinkling of bike commuters’ lights in the distant trees. Circle back around on the bark path to the pavement, listening for runners behind you. Be glad it’s not raining this time.

Cat poop consumed: yes

There are two songs you definitely don’t want stuck in your head while out for a dog run sans iPod: Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head by B.J. Thomas and Time to Change by the Brady Bunch Kids (complete with Peter’s voice cracking).

Cat poop consumed: no

A guest contributor today: Private S., U.S. Marine Corps.

When I was reading this book I came across this passage, if you will, that made me think of you. More like Jones, but it reminded me of your walking the dog stories.”For those who despair that their lives are without meaning and without purpose, for those who dwell in a loneliness so terrible that it has withered their hearts,for those who would squander their in self pity and in self destruction because they have lost saving wisdom with which they were born, for all these and many more, hope waits in the dreams of a dog, where the sacred nature of life may be clearly experienced without the all but blinding filter of human need, desire, greed, envy, and endless fear.”

Cat poop consumed: no