April 13/13
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| Our dog, Tundra, who loves her walks. |
Walking With Tundra
As I go to the drawer and take out the
leash,
Gentle Tundra, hops up and down
Channelling her inner puppy,
Though she's now fourteen
With a greying beard and cloudy eyes.
Bounding down the stairs to the ally,
Where the leash is for show in my hand,
Her excitement is palpable.
She bursts out of the gate to the fence
across the way,
The dog behind it goes crazy.
My dog pees, every time,
Oblivious to the commotion she's
causing.
Deafness can be fun.
Off we walk,
And I use the term lightly,
It's more of a meander,
To the other side of the alley,
To pee in another designated spot.
I play with the leash and
Contemplate the garbage strewn around
When the truck hoist the bins
And fails to capture their full
contents,
Then look up and enjoy the mountains,
Happy to live so near the river.
Tundra used to run on the beach for
hours.
Down a few more houses we go,
Time to stop and sniff another fence,
This one housing three big dogs,
Whipped up into a frenzy.
Tundra taunts them from freedom side of
the fence.
Again, she declines to hear them,
As I nudge her to keep going
And leave the dogs in peace.
Soon Tundra tires,
Her arthritic joints are getting sore
As she stops and looks at me,
Time to turn around.
First, another pee.
Back up the ally we go,
Passed the three dogs in the yard,
Though this time we don't stop,
We toddle along,
Sniffing the garbage,
I avoid the mud puddles,
Tundra walks right through them.
Soon we are back home,
Leaving a trail of worked up dogs in
our wake.
My faithful Tundra, saunters through
the gate,
And into the house,
To sleep.
