Suzy Says

I’m fortunate to have the company of lovely Rita this weekend while her guardian is at a Tai Chi workshop.

Rita reminds me a lot of Jed the Wonder Dog. They’re both girls, both adorable, both around 10 years old (despite the whole dog years thing, dogs don’t seem to worry about their age as much as girls do), both well-trained, both smart and sweet-natured and both want to be with the people. They would both chase the stick until their big old hearts gave out. They both charm complete strangers. If I were a single guy, walking either Jed or Rita would be an infallible way of meeting girls. They both have very high “Awwww” factors, which would reflect well on me. Does anyway.

Having a temp dog is great. For one thing, it gets me out of the house a couple of times a day to go to the park and throw the stick. Being underemployed has somehow translated to my being underexercised, too. You’d think that not having to waste 8+ hours a day at the office would make it possible to go to the gym all the time and get all kinds of things accomplished, but not the way I do it (or don’t do it). Fortunately for me and my cellulite, Rita is very motivational.

This morning, I shoved my feet into sandals, grabbed Rita’s leash, and headed to the park in a non-caffeinated state. Walking dogs seems to be the only thing I can do pre-coffee. She chased the stick happily (she has more moderate stick taste than Jed, who prefers the huge and unwieldy style, bigger than your head and often accessorized with pine cones or nails or other hazards) and wandered around on the grass.

It was a perfect summer day: not a cloud in the resolutely blue sky; warm, but not hot; a light breeze; the air scented with flowers and cut grass; the trees lush with green leaves. It reminded me of the summers of my long-ago childhood. When you look back through the soft focus of 25 to 30 years, you only seem to remember the good things. It seems like it was always summer then. We were fearless in those days. My sister and I walked to school together through the woods, unconcerned. We could stay on the beach without our parents for hours at a time. Our parents limited our TV watching, avoiding our exposure to violence both real and fictional, and we played outside year-round. It was a more innocent time, pre-9/11, pre-Internet. I’m glad I grew up when I did.

Guess Rita traded me a walk in the park for a walk down memory lane. And we’re both happy with the trade.