Walking the dog at dusk completes the day,
Weather and season do not play a part because it is
Dogs have internal alarm clocks fuelled by their bladders.
At precisely the same time and just when a warm bed is calling,
A wet nose prods
A paw is raised
Doggy eyes stare at the door
“Yes, yes” it is time to go.
Snow, wind, rain or dry we follow the same path around the block.
There are sniffing points
and that hallowed goal
The pooping place near the waste bin.
This is a walk of necessity mostly done hunched up in a heavy coat with
hat and gloves and a scarf masking the face.
There are only other dog walkers about.
Mr Tiny Yappy dog staggers from his gate similarly garbed.
“Cold for this time of year” he offers,
he says this every time
optimistic for heat which our climate never delivers.
Mrs Shaggy Mutt who walks in circles, dim eyes seeking the softness of
shuffles in slippers and waits for her dog just outside her front door.
“She’s got old” she murmurs.
Is it her or the dog she means?
We go on
Ailsa has sniffed and sidled and squatted enough
Passing the bin where I deposit our prize
Bedtime and dreams of dog days and people days to savour.
There is no dog moon to howl at tonight.
WriteTimeONE short story http://www.writetime.org