Spooked: A Halloween Story
Part 1: Give or Take a Squirrel or Five
About six weeks ago I took my dog Mia for her first long
walk in a very long time.
It went passably well, so the next day I took her for another
walk, and on the third day she decided that we would be taking walks every
single day.
Most days I take her on the same route, but sometimes we
veer off this and that way in order to avoid golf carts and roaming Pekinese
and other such hazards.
Most of the time Mia is confident and trots just a tiny bit
faster than I am walking.
I appreciate this and
sometimes break into a job myself and for a few minutes we are like a commercial
for why dogs helps people lead a healthy life and then BAM Mia stops on a dime
and goes 5 feet backwards, jerking me out of my Spotify daze and forcing me to
stand still (APPLEWATCH JUDGING ME ASKING WHY I AM CLOCKING THESE SIXTEEN
MINUTE MILES) while she smells this and considers that.
Each time this happens (10 times in 2 miles, give or take a
squirrel or five), I make myself take a deep breath and look at the trees and
the sky and the lake.
I almost look forward to these pauses, but not on
Halloween.
On Halloween I decided It would be a great idea to take the
dog for a long walk at dusk, far away from trick or treaters and all that. Mia
agreed and we headed out as usual – her in her harness that goes across her
neck, under her chest and behind her shoulders; me and my wireless headphones and
judgy watch.
The paths behind the residential roads are empty. From our
path we can see trick-or-treaters, and pause to watch a devil and Wonder Woman
get sprayed by the auto-sprinkler anti-deer system that always goes off when
Mia and I walk too close to the lush green lawn. The trick-or-treaters giggle and push
forward, undeterred. I wait for a minute
to see if anyone comes out to turn the sprinkler off before more people get
wet, but there’s nothing to see and get back to walking, savoring every turn
and hill.
A few minutes later (or is the right word herd? Or gaggle? Venison?
Doe?) of about fifteen deer, and my dog either doesn’t see the deer or doesn’t
care. I call out, “LOOK LOOK LOOK.” Sbut she won’t and I am beyond impressed at
her badass Zen-ness because each time I see deer I want stop and take a
gazillion pictures, even while I’m driving. (Of course I don’t; you would know
if did).
I vow to practice being less of a deer fangirl, and am open
to wanting to take some pictures of the flock of bossy geese that live in the
acres behind us and are genuinely pissed off every time they see me and Mia
coming their way.
We don’t bother them, we stay on the path and keep going
each and every time; a 100% peaceful record.
It doesn’t matter what we do -- they don’t trust us and they’re also annoyed
at having to draw up the energy to be annoyed when they were just happily eating
their pre-dark snack of bugs and/or doing other goose things that I do not know
about and will not be studying.
Everytime the geese see us coming on our walk, they honk and
back off and then flap at us and flyaway. Mia could not have cared less.
Sometimes Mia does weird things. (continued)
