Getting Off the Trail
Lukas and I had a wonderful, long, luxurious walk the other day. I didn’t have another client for a few hours which left us with a full 90-minute block of time to meander wherever his nose and four paws took us in the nature preserve next to our house.
Not long after we set-off, Lukas moved off the trail into taller grasses and headed toward a patch flattened by sleeping deer the night before. At that moment, I noticed an older, larger dog coming toward us. Lukas and I both felt it best to give this elder room to move without feeling threaten. And, Lukas, while showcasing his perfect manners with a flawless sit and bright smile, reminded me it was a good time to give him one of his favorite cheesy dog treats.
As the young man and his aging German Shepherd moved past us, both thanking us for the space, I noticed the dog had cloudy eyes. Because of that, the dog admitted, he had a little anxiety about what he could no longer see. His human, too, the Shepherd continued, was anxious that their paths were nearing a divergence so he preferred to have space on the trail so they could enjoy their focus on one another.
Such a beautiful pair, Lukas and I thought. We wished them a wonderful day and I followed Lukas back onto the trail.
Shortly thereafter, we encountered the large, extended Goose family we’ve become acquainted with over these last few months. The goslings are almost full grown and it is getting harder to pick out the babies from the adults. Soon, the entire family will have their flight feathers and they will fly away from our approach. Now, however, they have to walk everywhere and typically use the path as an easy way to get back to the pond.
Lukas and I slowed our gait to a crawl as I greeted them, complimenting the parents on how well their babies looked. They quietly moved off the path for us, chattering that it was easier for them to move than for us on this particular stretch of trail and they were fine to do so. As they ambled towards the water, Lukas and I continued forward, wishing them well.
On the last part of our walk, we had a very different event that left me feeling a little frustrated. As we neared this large birch tree there was a younger woman sitting on the nearby bench with her small poodle on an extendable leash while her children played in the tree. The poodle had pulled the extendable leash so far out that she was now directly in our path, staring right at us.
As we got within a few feet of Poodle, Lukas stopped and looked back at me just as the she growled. Lukas’ favorite playmates are smaller, female dogs and, noting the dog’s pink harness, pink leash and her feminine energy, we both thought we may have a new friend. But the growling indicated differently and it puzzled us both.
Her human, however, didn’t even look up from her cell phone to see what Poodle was grumbling about.
Feeling uncertain, I reached down to pull in the excess bit of Lukas’ leash so he’d be closer to me and called out to the owner “Is your leash locked?”
She looked up, saw the two of us and answered flatly, “Yeah.”
“Oh good,“ I responded, “we wanted to be able to pass by safely.” And at that moment, Lukas lunged a foot forward and barked a warning shot. The woman was absolutely unfazed and looked back down at her phone. Grumbles the Poodle, on the other hand, immediately moved off the trail. I was stunned but followed Lukas as he moved ahead.
As we left the scene, I started to chastise myself for 1) possibly overreacting to (and judging) the cell-phone absorbed woman and 2) not having followed - and trusted - the agreement Lukas and I have for these type of circumstances which is to look at each other, hand over the cheese biscuits and keep moving. I was thinking I shouldn’t have stopped and engaged the woman.
Lost in my own self-criticism, Lukas abruptly stopped, sat and looked up at me, thereby snapping my attention to him. “What?” I asked him out loud.
“Neither of us did anything wrong back there. You followed me and your intuition each and every time we had something on the trail in front of us today. You ‘knew’ that Grumbles, despite her size, could cause an issue. You asked her human to make sure she would not block us. I, simply, reinforced your request. In life, you have to do that sometimes to keep moving forward,” Lukas stated.
“Ah, I see! And other times, we can glide by like we did with the Geese and sometimes, we have to move off a little bit in order to notice something beautiful and unexpected,” I concluded.
“Exactly,” he said, smiling up at me, reminding me of the few cheese biscuits left in my bag that needed devouring. I happily obliged, thanking him for the new insight from the animals and grateful, once again, for our meanderings together.
