Almost Every Day

We come to this park almost every day. It's a strange oasis in our neighborhood with pond, river, prairie, and forest areas. It's only 3.5 acres, but there's a lot packed into that small footprint.  There's a metal bridge, the kind where the metal has holes through it, that crosses the river to a forested island.  Poor Hannah is scared of the bridge because she can see her reflection in the water below, but yesterday she went halfway across before retreating. I want her to cross the bridge so I can let her off leash on the island and her progress has been slow, but steady.

We come to this park almost every day. Most days I let her off leash in the wide open grassy field so that she can burn off all her energy before we start serious training. She runs around, she sniffs, she jumps up and down like a canine deer in the tall prairie grasses.  Then I put her leash back on and we walk the trails where we practice not lunging or barking at people or other dogs and loose leash walking. She's not lunging or barking because she's mean, but because she wants attention. I want her learn that I'm the attention she needs.  

We come to this park almost every day. Today the sky was a clear blue with wispy clouds.  You can hear the birds, especially the ducks on the pond who quack and quack. You can hear the susurrus of the wind through the tall grasses, but you can also hear the bells toll for the changing of classes at the nearby junior high school. Even though the school is currently remote, you can hear the long blaring toll that makes you immediately worry you're going to be marked tardy.  The ground is almost always soft, winter excepted, because it's a wet, swampy area. Most of the year, there are mosquitoes constantly buzzing, but right now is the best time of year because the overnight frost has killed the mosquitoes, but it's not so cold that we can't walk and walk and walk.  

We come to this park almost every day. Most days we see a couple of people, maybe a dog or two. I try to keep Hannah in a sitting position when people walk by, giving her handful after handful of kibble, but sometimes people will want to talk.  "What's your dog's name?" "What kind of dog is she?" "How old is she?" "Can I pet her?" "How big is she going to get?" Hannah, 100% super, around three, yes, she's full grown.  

We come to this park almost every day. People tell me that the self-isolation and social distancing is wreaking havoc with their mental health and I can understand that. But between regular yoga and our excursions to the park, I have stayed pretty sane. I'm lucky that this park is just blocks from our house and I'm even luckier that I have a companion as adorable and good-natured as this one to go with me on mini-adventures daily.  I will never take for granted how lucky I am that I have access to fresh air, clean water, and space to roam, along with the physical abilities to enjoy those things.