The First Walk...

If I tried I could likely write about a lot of firsts with Houdie already. From a teenage perspective it could have been her first fart or her first nose dive as she lost traction on the laminate floor not reallizing she would run out of runway on this particular landing. What about her first trip around the yard that left her pooped (literally) and wondering what happened to that postage stamp? Or, the first encounter with the neighbour's dogs... they look my size, could these be my brothers? Her first encounter with the cat proved curiosity doesn't kill the cat, not in the first round anyway. I must get at that split on her ear with mineral oil and a bit of Polysporin...

There will be many more firsts in the coming days, weeks and months. What perculates in my mind as she becomes a new, uncoordinated appendage to my legs is our very first walk together. You know, the action falling from vision that speaks... this will be my opportunity to finally work on my own fitness sans the usual excuses cause... when a dog has got to go, a dog has got to go!

To the onlookers eye, who was that idiot trailing down the back alley, stumbling but not quite falling; twirling like the leaves in a spasdic, sporadic gale? No streak of wonder, that's for sure. But, something is a foot. There must be with that Mona Lisa grin on permanent display upon her face.

She's heavy. What? This little bundle of joy insisting that a block is far too long and the nippiness of the morning is far too cold to be overcome by the scents of days, dogs and various other wonders of the world gone by? As she shivers in my arms, and whispers her whiney sweetness in my ear, I remind myself that soon... oh, so very soon, I'll need a wagon if this continues. In the meantime, I can accept the medicine ball approach. Who am I to judge this new fitness regime?

As her breathing becomes heavier at the nape of my feet, my thoughts wander to her sister who will join us a week past the full moon and Mona Lisa cracks a grin... the firsts will all start again.

With the trip there and back a memory fading fast, I'm exhausted... enviously listening to her moans and sprawls on the floor as she snoozes for the fifth time since midnight.

Do I dare take a nap?