West D Street Greenway, Springfield

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

 

West D Street Greenway, Springfield

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

 

West D Street Greenway, Springfield

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

 

West D Street Greenway, Springfield

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

 

West D Street Greenway, Springfield

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

 

West D Street Greenway, Springfield

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

 

West D Street Greenway, Springfield

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

 

West D Street Greenway, Springfield

As T.S. Eliot said, a cat is not a dog. I would like to add, as something of a non sequitur, that walking is not running. I knew a woman who rather spontaneously entered the Los Angeles marathon without really training for it. She said that since she’d been running for 20 years her body would know what to do. And it did; she was fine. I’ve been a runner for 16 years but I wasn’t feeling my springiest my first time out after seven months off. This despite all the aforementioned walking. Jones had no such drama and trotted alongside like a perfect citizen. His only concern was that we make our usual stop at the interpretive sign so he could check his pee-mail.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

West D Street Greenway, Springene

Another experiment in family living today. I strapped E. into the torso jet pack (for better nap excellence) and took Jones on the leash for a long walk out to the Knickerbocker Bridge. Would he pull and lunge and endanger my genetic replica? Must I untangle yet another shift in pack dynamics? But no. Again with the miracles, mostly. We passed all the usual triggers without incident: skateboarders (not a crime, I keep telling him), dogs running alongside bikes, the mail truck, squirrels, heavy equipment, all without the usual drama. It’s like some After School Special about a troubled dog transformed by his new responsibility to watch over a baby. It’s more likely that he just wants to ensure the ongoing supply of effluvia she provides.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

West D Street Greenway, Springfield

I found a giant mushroom–a red bulb with white spots–straight out of Tintin. Jones found a banana bread wrapper. Grandma found figs still edible from the tree on the corner. E. found zen calm from the vibration of the baby juggler. Ramona found toast.

Cat poop consumed: no