Togo Goes For a Walk

I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately about routines and their importance in building healthy, productive lives. Don’t get me wrong. That research hasn’t been for me. I’m one of the healthiest, most productive beings on earth. 

It’s for my daddy. You see, humans get distracted pretty easily and, according to the experts, a well-designed routine is essential to help them get things done and to attend to things that are important. I’ve been observing my daddy all of my life and can attest that he needs a lot of help in this area. 

Before we go any further into this, I may need to set you straight on a false perception. When dogs like me speak up on the need for our humans to get focused, someone will invariably bring up how seemingly distracted a dog will become when they see certain things. A squirrel, for example. However, squirrel spotting and chasing is very close to the top priority on our job descriptions. The truth is that our ability to immediately pivot to such things is not a matter of distraction but of singular focus on our purpose in life. And, I should also note that I don’t see many humans getting excited about such things. In fact, if we left it to humans, we would soon be overrun by the feckless mindset of rodents and a select group of felines. We must unite and bark and chase to remind these creatures of their place in our grand society.

Sorry. I may have gotten a little distracted in speaking out against the false perception of distraction.

To my point, I do my best to contribute to my daddy’s constructive routines. Not surprisingly, most of them involve me. We have a feeding routine and a play routine. But I’m writing today to talk about the walk routine. And to share another secret. Even though Daddy thinks it’s part of his routine, a walk is anything but routine. Let me describe what is really happening.

Every morning following my breakfast, Daddy gives me a vitamin, a snack griller (of questionable protein content), and a peanut butter crunchy. That last item is of extreme importance in our routine. Once delivered, I am empowered to take one step inside the back door and announce to all who will listen, “I’m going for a walk, everybody!” Then I back out the door and watch Daddy refill my water jug at the kitchen sink and grab special treats for our walk. 

That’s when I run for the gate to be there before Daddy. Daddy and I have a lot of little races during the day. I always win. And half the time I don’t even try. Sometimes I have to wait several minutes at the gate. Apparently, Daddy has a routine. He changes to his walking shoes to accommodate the mud we invariably find along the way. He makes sure that his little puppy pouch is well stocked with treats and poop bags. And he readies my harness so that it will slide smoothly over my head. Then, and only then, does he make his way to the gate, fumble with the lock, and swing it open.

I always sit back about 20 feet away. And when the gate latch clicks, I charge the gate. Daddy always laughs. And I always pull up just in time to let that harness slide over my head so that Daddy can buckle it in place. I don’t really need the harness. I have found it helpful to be leashed to Daddy though, Sometimes he is slow or wanders off from the direction I intend to go. The harness and leash are essential routine support items to make sure I don’t lose him.

Once outside the gate, I pause in the driveway for the first of a number of negotiated snacks along the way. The frequency and number vary depending on the route we take. But there is always one in the driveway to get us started. 

Daddy and I have two main routes. One is through the neighborhood and is about four-tenths of a mile shorter than the other. While I disdain the length, I like this route immensely. One of my jobs is to patrol our neighborhood to take note of the current condition of things. I am greeted along the way by dogs in back yards and in houses. Some are very excited. The cats along the way are less excited. They no longer run away. They sit and watch me with who-knows-what intent. I like to think that they like me. And that, if I could trust Daddy long enough to let him off his leash, they would thoroughly enjoy playing keep away. 

Whenever I walk, I take my responsibility to mark the route very seriously. After all, it is important to let other dogs and animals know that I have been doing my job. It is also a matter of personal discipline in that God only gives me a certain amount of marking liquid at any given time. So I’ve had to learn how to pace myself to sustain my duties throughout the entire walk.

And on almost every walk, I have to take a poop. I know. That is not the most pleasant thing for me to talk about. But it is part of my routine. And can be a very productive part of my routine. Daddy carries multiple poop bags in his puppy pouch, just in case. And he is a stickler for picking up every bit of my productivity. Sometimes, when I feel the urge to go in someone’s front yard, the residents come out and stare at us. It doesn’t bother me because I am happy to be fulfilling my routine. Daddy always speaks to them and often waves — oftentimes with the poop bag already positioned over his waving appendage. That seems to make the property owners a little less grouchy. Daddy says that they aren’t really mad at us but at the countless other dogs (and some cats) that aren’t as meticulous as we are.

The other main route is up to the university campus. It’s just a couple of blocks from our house and it’s my favorite place to walk. Lots of people and dogs walk there. At our early morning time, we don’t see a lot of them. But the sniff potential is extremely high. And I check out as many locations as I can. 

There are two other really neat benefits to the university route. Sometimes we do get to see people and talk to them. Most of the time I will stand or sit by quietly. Occasionally, I can tell that they need more attention. Daddy tries to be watching to make sure that I don’t knock them down in my attempt to give them a big lick on the face. Occasionally we see those other dogs and their humans. We avoid them because we don’t want any trouble. Except for one. Kirby. He’s a little white-haired dog. He has a bit of a limp. His owner is very nice and told us that Kirby is 15 years old in human years. Kirby is my hero. I like to see him although we still stay about 10 feet away. I can feel the aura of his wisdom and never-give-up spirit from there. 

One of the coolest things about the university route is the presence of the feral cats. The university manages this kitty-cat population. The university has someone who studied how to feed them and watch over them and even pay for surgeries that help manage the population. I feel like I’m at a cat zoo when we are on campus. Most don’t hide from me anymore. There were a handful of instances where I may have tried to become too playful and scared a few. Now, I just have Daddy get a real short grip on his leash and we can walk through a whole clowder of cats without incident. Mostly. I still give them a knowing look to let them know . . .

The university route also takes us by a big statue with angels in it. I like angels, in general. Especially these. They’re the most famous angels in this part of town. And they appreciate my frequent visits.  

The other neat thing about the university route is getting to use the traffic light and crosswalk to cross a busy street. Daddy presses a big button on a post and then we stand patiently waiting to cross. When a little cartoon figure of a human pops up, we can look both ways and cross safely. And, on the other side, I will sit and Daddy will give me a treat for being responsible. Of course, we really know that I was the one who held him responsible. It’s just easier to let him think that he is in charge.

Regardless of which route we take, our last stop is at our front door. We ring the doorbell and Momma soon appears, asks me if I had a good walk, and gives me another peanut butter crunchy. The perfect ending to a perfect walk. 

I don’t know if you are helping someone else with their routines. But that’s the best part. Do something special with a friend. I recommend a walk.