Barking at my Dog

I decided yesterday whilst sitting and being incredibly lazy in my bedroom that I would take my dog for a walk. I was feeling sort of guilty over everything I'd eaten that day, which is kind of ridiculous, seeing as teenagers are supposed to be able to eat whatever the heck they want. But when you eat a lunch composed mainly of curly fries, Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper, and oatmeal cookies and then get home and eat girl scout cookies, M&Ms, and some baked Doritos, you're bound to feel like a lazy slob who really needs some excersise. So I put on a hoodie and my jean jacket (which I got for $12 at Kohls, possibly my best purchase of all time), grabbed my labrador and my camera, and headed out the door. My original plan had been to cross the street and the following train tracks to the little creek that's back there. However, I saw some lady on the path and decided to go the other direction, as it's yet to be determined if that little creek area is private property or not. So I started on my usual dog-walking route, down by my old elementary school that is now a tech school for 8th and 9th graders. When I passed that, with the usual sentimental sigh, I decided to walk through the neighborhood of pretty houses. I couldn't tell if they were rich houses, necessarily, but they're pretty: all sprawling lawns and gardens and brick and big picture windows and bright trim. I kept pausing to take out my camera and snap pictures and it occurred to me that while my original intent was to find a peaceful place of nature and I'd had to go the other way, I'd found it anyway. This residential neighborhood was just as peaceful and full of beauty as the creek. As a matter of fact, the very same creek ran through this neighborhood. My dog seemed perfectly content to be outside and exploring the sounds and smells of the new spring. Eventually, we looped back around and crossed the train tracks. I had to hold my breath as we basically crossed someone else's lawn, all the while dreaming up excuses of why I was on their property should anyone come and yell at me. Finally, the hill that led down to the creek appeared and I let my dog off the leash.

--A word about my dog. He's a dork. Dorky the Dog. His name's Fergus, and he turned 10 on St. Patrick's day. He refuses to believe he's 10, because he still acts like he's 3. Currently, he's kinda chilling out on my feet, but when he's not sprawling on the couch or eating, he's running around the house, chewing on his headless giraffe (that's a different story). So he's young at heart. And questionably intelligent. But he's the most loyal, adorable, goofy dog anyone could ever want.--

He was confused at my leash taking off at first and sort of hung out by my side, looking at me like "Wait, I can...I can run around? Really? You sure? Well...ok!" and then took off. It was amusing to watch him hate on the tiny bridge that I crossed. He splashed down into the creek and appeared to be very confused and anxious as to getting out, as both sides of exit were steep. Finally, he took an impressive leap onto the shore and seemed to be very proud of himself for doing so. He was wagging his tail, all excited. We moved on down the path to the part of the creek with the small waterfall, and Fergus plunged right into the water up to his stomach. The water was shlooping around him, and I plopped down on the concrete shore and took pictures of him shaking off droplets of water. When he emerged from the water, he was so excited that he took off galloping down the path, which was highly amusing and made for some good pictures. He came trotting around my legs, panting and wagging his tail so hard I was afraid it would fall off. I took off running, and he followed me, matching his stride to mine. We got back to the bridge, and he impressed me again by crossing on a ledge of a piece of concrete. I told him he was surprisingly agile for such an old man, and he panted in my face. Then, the leash had to go back on. We ran up the hill and back to the path, waited to cross the busy street, and headed down the home stretch of sidewalk.

It occurs to me that I never explained my title. As I said, Fergus is very excitable. This made for some tough leashing on my part, always having to yell at him to "HEEL!". So by barking at him, I don't mean like "woof woof", but rather a sharp command sort of bark. Also, this post is sort of giving him a shout-out. Not like he'll read it. He is a dog, after all.