Walking Jessie

by Marc Strange

If it weren't for Jessie, some mornings you couldn't pry me out of the house with a crowbar. You know the kind - freezing rain, bitter cold, damp and dreary days at the tail end of a long winter. But, four walks a day, that's the deal. And no standing around, the kid likes to check things out, she likes to go places. I'm not certain how we arrived at this arrangement. I suspect she's a better negotiator than I am. I have explained to her that she's a fortunate girl, inasmuch as I work at home and am generally available for frequent outings. I've made it as clear as I can that there are many dogs who aren't so lucky, dogs who get a "before work" walk, and a "Be good until I get home," promise. She appears unimpressed. Dogs are realists and they make do with what is. In Jessie's case, she makes do with four walks a day. She'd happily raise the number if I weren't so lazy.

Walks are of course the highlights of a dog's day. Just mention the word "walk" (or any of the variations, "Walkies?" "Wanna go out?") and watch their eyes light up, their ears lift, their tails start to wag. In Jessie's case, because she's a bit of a skeptic, there's also the dubious wrinkled forehead that says, "You wouldn't be kidding me, would you?"

Jessie likes her leash. She knows exactly how far a twenty-six-foot Flexi can stretch, and precisely how much extra pull she can exert before I complain about being dragged. She's getting pretty good about "walking nice" too, when the situation requires, such as on the sidewalks between the two parks we visit every day. She still bristles when the two little spaniels on the other side of Chatham go off like a string of firecrackers every time we walk that block, but she's stopped trying to drag me into traffic to discuss it with them.

She's a pugnacious little tank, my Jessie, definitely an alpha bitch wannabe. By now there are quite a few dogs who have her number - Gertie's put her in her place more than once, Petey's taught her a lesson of two, and she won't tangle with Madelyn over a stick again - nonetheless she likes to think of herself as Queen of the DogBark and would throw her weight around if I'd let her. But what she likes best is following her nose. To her, the park is a kind of library of blooming and fading stories, with daily updates, and Jessie is an avid reader. She spends most of her walk checking out who's been where, and how long ago, and deciding whether she needs to scrawl an addendum on top of their signature. I have the feeling she's a busybody at heart and enjoys reading other people's mail. Once in a while she comes upon a classic - something that's been around long enough to be worth rolling in. I try to anticipate those sections.

And no matter that I often grumble to her about the ungodly hour, the inclement weather, the tyranny of her schedule, in many ways Jessie's walks are the highlights of my day as well. There is something uplifting about being in the company of someone so obviously thrilled to be alive. When my daughter walks her Jack Russell with us she often translates. She's convinced her boy is saying things like, "This is the best stick ever!" or "Check out this incredible smell!" Dogs love whatever is happening, wherever they're going, whatever game you feel like playing, and hanging out with that level of enthusiasm is bound to lighten one's spirits, no matter the hour, no matter the weather. Jessie's walks mean the world to her. They mean a lot to me too.

The photo was taken by Marcia Leeder  
A cartoon drawing by Marc Strange

"Marc Strange is a Toronto writer and artist who usually
has dog biscuits in his pocket."


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