My ironically named childhood dog, Spike, was with our family from Christmas morning (when I was just 2 weeks old) until the day before my 13th birthday. He was an overly sweet & shy multi-colored mut, probably part Spaniel and part Lab, we were never sure. His floppy, ruffly ears and worried eyes are what I remember most. Our normal interaction was when my dad would let him in the kitchen through the laundry room during a rainstorm or when it was cold. I would cuddle up with him in a blanket on the kitchen floor, waiting for my mom to come home from PTA meetings. Other than that, he was mainly an outside dog. We were blessed enough to always have big backyards in which he'd pave a trail around the permiter. He'd pace those paths day and night, almost like he was protecting us from whatever was on "the other side".
In our current house, the one at which I have the most memories with him, there are two gates in the fence. With seven kids and our friends coming and going, you can imagine there was the occasional escape. I remember seeing him dash away while looking through the kitchen windows... he would take off up our quiet and secluded street that, at the time, only had 4 other houses on it. We'd rush outside and yell his name with a certain tone reserved only for moments like those. In desperate times my Dad's voice would always do the trick. He'd tuck his tail and come trotting back, sad that the adventure he could taste was cut short. We'd secure the fence again and find a sibling to blame. Some times took longer than others, but Spike always made it home safely. Although he was an active animal, the practice of taking him on walks wasn't familiar to me. I guess we were all partly to blame for his intense curiosity of "the other side" of the fence.
The main memory I have of taking him on a "walk" was when I was 8 years old and had gotten confident enough on my rollerblades to think it would be fun to take him out. I put him on the only leash I could find and off we went. I was like Santa Clause being pulled by my one little reindeer: I was flying while he was doing all the work. We were both pretty happy... until he suddenly changed directions, clotheslined me with the leash and I crashed to the ground. My bloody knees and tear-filled eyes accompanied Spike back home where not only my skin was hurt, but my pride as well. So much for dog walking being fun. I'm sorry to say that was the first and last time I tried walking my dog. And then I met Riff Raff.
Anyone who knows me knows that I don't have a dog, instead I have two cats. Jack and Honey are 6 years old and perfectly self reliant, but lovable all the same. They cuddle with me in bed and join me in front of the fireplace, but can also be left alone for the weekend. Not to mention they don't need to go outside. Ever. Which also means they've never seen a dog before. Again, until I met Riff Raff.
Riff Raff is not like any other dog I've met. Sure, he's got the basic and essential dog qualities that everyone loves in a canine: he's sweet, loyal and gets scared during thunderstorms. But what I will say that separates him from the others: he's so incredibly smart. Sometime I truly wonder if he understands english. He's obedient on what it seems is his own free will. Meaning, unless there are cars around, he doesn't need to be on a leash. And when he is, he almost never pulls. He merely trots next to you, enjoying the stroll and sounds of the world as if he were a human.
Until recently, I was only accompanying T on these walks. I would go along and enjoy it for personal reasons: excercise, quality conversation and catching some sunshine. But since I've had a number of opportunities to spend some one-on-one time with Riff lately, I've discovered just how fun dog walking can be.
From the moment I get home and he greets me at the door it's pure joy, for him and for me. It's been proven that pets can improve their owner's health but I'm satisfied with just an improved mood. It may have been a crazy Monday or a dragging Thursday... I may be hungry or need to go to the bathroom, but when Riff stands up to show his excitement that you're finally there you forget about your own needs. Since I'm not a mother yet I can only imagine this is what it's like to have kids.
Sometimes it's hard to even get inside the door to put my purse down. But I manage to grab a water bottle and go out the door again. Riff's bliss shines through his smile as he keeps looking toward you while going down the stairs. We turn the corner and in the evening sun he knows it's time for another walk. He prances through the parking lot and greets the other dogs - methodically looks around to inspect any changes from the morning trot, a long 8 or 9 hours before.
A lot of people might view this as a chore, but I've realized it's a gift. When else would you take 30 minutes to walk around your neighborhood or go to the park? When else would you have the time to breathe in the outside air and watch the sun set? For me, it's not that often since I work in an office and my kitties don't go outside. But thanks to Riff, I get to do that when he's there.
I guess I should be thanking T and the long schedule he keeps - it's because of his hard work that I get my alone time with Riff Raff. I think I'm now officially a cat AND dog person. If only Spike could be here to see it <3
