As I turned to go inside, that morning, our wiggler decided walking was fine but only if he carried the leash. So we walked - all 3 of us. One leash, two dogs and a mystified pet owner.
Our sweet boy, Mr. Wiggles, who had been diagnosed last year with a blood disorder that was killing his platelets, was in the throes of a new world order. All rigorous exercise ceased, to be reintroduced slowly at a more appropriate time. Internal bleeding could result from indiscriminate exercise. Things had to change. One hour of exercise per day had to be maintained for our dogs. They were large moving targets of love and boisterous activity.
Mr.Wiggler would stall, occasionally, in mid-walk as if to say let's do something else. Running was not encouraged. So, one morning, I dropped the leash to the ground.. I had other things to do. But I would return. Then it happened. He picked up the leash and walked himself. Then it dawned on me. Would he walk his sister, too?
Walking in the country poses hazards not necessarily known in the city. Rabid animals can appear suddenly with fatal consequences. As I tried to walk him that day I thought of other novel ways to entice him to move. Attaching a shorter leash to him made him happy while moving. When he slowed, I would give him the honour of carrying it. His sister was there wondering what was happening. She loved to move too so exercise was no problem here. He was chunky with a penchant to stand, sit and chew grass, nearby. His diet was nutrient dense with raw berries, cukes, carrot and celery stick, among other things. A new look at exercise had him walking solo with the leash in his mouth.
The leash was his new best friend. Into the house it would go, attached to the beautiful face of our wiggler. He loved to carry it while in there, too. We were amused but grateful that chewing grass, sitting and watching the neighbours were no longer that important to him. A new 'leash' on life was garnering his attention and ours, too. New leashes were on our agenda once the lock down was finished. Different textures would be added to give him a reason to walk, maybe to run.
A while back, gloves were his focus, so we took to throwing a garden glove for him to fetch. It worked till it did not. He had what trainers call a soft mouth. Nothing was ever torn. He simply wanted to carry stuff. If the leash meant that much, so be it. We would accommodate this simple request, with safe leash lengths and different textures. In the fenced enclosure, he would walk, preferably, with the leash in his mouth. His sister would walk with him, attached to the leash, with the other end in his mouth. I walked alongside the cavalcade, making sure Mr. Wiggles was not twisting 'Sally' into a pretzel with sudden gestures and backward maneuvers. I did not want her to fall. Her history of torn ligament surgeries keeps me mindful of her Olympic status. She never complains and is always fearless. A sports injury is just a stone's throw away for her.
Today, we walk our pets to keep their hearts and muscles in top shape. Mr. Wiggles gets the leash and brings it to me. He sits while I attach it to him. He's quiet. He knows the drill. Different strides and quickened paces help to re-awaken our hearts and minds to this newer outdoor routine. Walking is the best form of exercise, anyway. It is readily available, affordable and easily shared with others.
Dogs are only to happy to remind us to get up and go. They live in the present and offer no excuses. They want to run, fetch, or carry, some of them; but one in particular, our Mr. Wiggles, prefers just to walk and carry. And I'm too happy to let him do it, sort of.
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