Lead the Way, Good Friend.
Pax and I had a brisk walk to the post office this morning.
On familiar ground Pax likes to move, faster than I do. Off the beaten path, he frequently pauses to consider things, to read the landscape. In this case rapid advances are interspersed with lingering pauses, and I get to slow from a near jog to a leisurely amble.
On some walks, both the brisk straight forward and the dawdling zig-zag give way to a more frenetic advance, and this means business. Pax is surprisingly modest in his dutiful behavior, always trying to get as far from observation as possible. Often, when he begins to tug, I let mim off lead, and that sometimes makes it difficult to find the results of his exertions. In prairie or wood I don’t bother, figuring nature appreciates recycling.
On the way home from the post office this morning I let Pax decide the route, as I do on many walks. His way is not always my way, but who would like a life in which every decision is made by someone else? His directional decisions are not based on scenery or the amount of shade along the route, but rather on more subtle factors. Whichever way we go, we always end up home, usually just about the same time we would have if I’d been steering.
Today thunder rumbled not long after our return, and then the rain came. Though I love lively weather, Pax doesn’t; so while I went to sit on the porch and enjoy the storm, he headed for the basement. Who was I to argue? At his age, and in appreciation of his many accomplishments, he is, I believe, entitled to manage his own time and make his own decisions.
Today he resurfaced just as the rain stopped, around 5 o’clock, which, by-the-way, happens to be his regular dinner time.
Pax seems to like our shared philosophy of ”freedom with responsibility,” and has always lived up to his part of the bargain. We both feel sorry for members of his tribe who seldom get out of the house and almost never off a chain.