Going to the Dogs

Can one live a simple life if one is not given to making the occasional walk rather than drive to the mailboxes? I think not! Thankfully, cooler weather is making its way to south Texas and walking can become a consideration once more. Assuming you stick to early morning, at least for now. I made a trek to the mailboxes myself a bit ago. I can hear the cardio doc applauding in my head...can you hear it?

There is not a lot going on in our village this time of day. People are working, kids are schooling...not much to see but a plethora of dogs. We are, by all visible and auditory evidence, a village of dog lovers. In our home alone we are out numbered two to one.

I avoided any hullabaloo from my own canines by exiting out the front door. This is my writing time of day so they are sequestered in their respective doggy yard and/or puppy daycare for the duration. I made a clean get-away. Of course, half way down the driveway, our neighbor's penned canines started alerting their cronies I was on the move. And so it began...

Though we reside in the country, it is still a country neighborhood, and the 1/2 mile trek to the mailboxes passes yards and fences of many a neighboring dog; all of which were compelled to extol their (assumed) joy at my passing by. My first sighting of a live person was almost at the top of the hill to the main road (huff, puff) and he was kind enough to call his rather large and loud canine friend to his side as I passed by their open gate. We are not supposed to have free roaming animals in the village but try telling that to the dogs, they do not care. We waved a cheery 'hello', mine full of gratitude, his in acknowledgment.  

Finally at the mailboxes, I deposited my envelop, my mission complete. We have a friendly man in the village that lives across from the mailboxes and he greeted me as he waited for his 'bus' that takes him to the Senior Center for his daily visits. He's a little 'slow' but always waves, you have to love that. The mailbox corral was being thoroughly investigated by a teen-aged pup that looked like a chocolate lab mix with beautiful green eyes. He was eager to make my acquaintance and sniffed me accordingly. I was found suitable, in spite of the lingering smell of our dogs...or maybe because of the lingering smell of our dogs...and the pup proceeded to walk me home. In spite of my many efforts to shoo him away, he would not be deterred. At one point along the road, he wandered in an open gate and I hoped he would be intrigued long enough for me to get out of sight and mind but, as soon as I thought I had made my escape, he came galloping up behind me.

We were approaching the driveway of my friend, Mina; I hoped she was home, so I could duck into her house for a bit, long enough for a some girl talk and for the pup to forget all about me. Alas, she was not home. Admittedly, although I do not believe in 'drop-in' company, I was hoping to rest at her house because ...well, her house was closer than mine!

Additional efforts to shoo away the pup proved just as fruitless as the first and he rankled the vocal chords of every dog between the mailboxes and my driveway. I knew he would be most unwelcome by our hounds and they picked up on him without even seeing him. Thus began the mournful howl that inspired my term of endearment, 'the hounds', in the first place.

Curiously enough, it was the fearful dashing of kittens that scared him as he approached the steps to our front deck. These are the progeny of the feral cat that graces us with her presence...as long as we do not try to get too close. It amused me that this obviously delightful and enthusiastic pup was deterred, not by any of the barking or shooing, by two little kittens running as if their tails were on fire. So much for loyalty!