Tag: walking

Posted in dogs

A long walk and tiny bones

Posted on by William Douthwaite

This past Saturday, we and the dogs took a walk over the Flagler Beach bridge and back. Going up was warm, but the breeze felt wonderful as we descended towards the ocean. Sun Bros Cafe came into sight and we sat outside with a couple of iced coffees.

As soon as I filled up a collapsable water bowl for the dogs, Willow (the Great Dane) stepped in it, spilling it onto the sidewalk. After a quick refill, both laid down in the shade of our table to watch people walking by.

When we’ve got the dogs with, we attract attention. Passersby can’t help but smile. Some will ask what kind of dog the big one is, and their eyes get bigger when we say, “She’s a four-month-old Great Dane.” Then everyone exclaims, “Wow, look at those big feet!”

After a while, someone from the cafe came out to say hi and had two dog biscuits in his hands. They were the tiniest dog biscuits I’ve ever seen. They were bone-shaped, but only about 1/2 inch long. The dogs eagerly ate them. But the look on their faces said, “Is that it? You call that a bone?” They are all about the bones. If I even say the word bone, they run from wherever they are in the house and sit in front of the kitchen cabinet where we keep our bone canister. By the way, ours is filled with legit bones, at least three inches long.

The concrete barrier provided just enough shade for the dogs on the return walk back to the car. With long tongues and lots of panting, we had to help them jump into the van. Of course, by the time they got home they were ready to chase each other around the back yard. But for now, they were tired and happy dogs.

Posted in dogs

Was he dead or playing possum?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

On our morning walk this morning, the dogs caught a whiff of this possum out in a neighbor’s front yard. For a moment, I thought he was dead. Then I remembered that possums “play possum,” or pretend to be dead when threatened. I thought they were nocturnal. I can’t remember the last time I saw one in the day time.

So I did some research. Opossums can be out day or night foraging for food. And they don’t just pretend to be dead. Apparently, they faint when threatened and express an unpleasant odor so that a predator will leave them alone.

My friend Phil called them “soft shell armadillos.” He was not a fan. But it was armadillos, not possum, that was digging up his yard.

Opossums are immune to venom and are rabies resistant. They are omnivores, and will eat a lot of the snails, slugs, beetles, and ticks found in gardens.

We never know who we’ll meet on our walks!

Posted in dogs

I didn’t realize how noisy a morning could be

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Marcus Saylor on Unsplash

A gentle rain began to fall about a quarter mile into our morning walk. It was just enough to warrant a head-to-toe shake from the dogs every ten minutes.

As we walked, the pup (Willow, our fourth-month-old Great Dane) paused in her tracks, perked up her ears, and turned towards every little noise. For her, every sound is a new experience, and this morning was full of them.

  • Rain hitting the garbage bags lining the street, waiting for pickup.
  • A truck gently splashing through a puddle.
  • The staccato of raindrops hitting a sunroom’s metal roof.
  • The mmreep of a frog hiding in a drainage swale.
  • Heavier drops of rain hitting the ground when the breeze kicked up.
  • The drip of a leaky gutter.

I didn’t notice any of these sounds until she slightly tilted her head and wrinkled her brow, trying to figure out each one. What I thought was a nice quiet morning turned out to be filled with fascinating noise.

Posted in Life

I live here: walks around the neighborhood

Posted on by William Douthwaite

When we brought Winston home last June, I started taking him for walks around our neighborhood every morning and evening. An eight-month-old West Highland White Terrier puppy has energy to spare, so we explored every street in our corner of the community.

When we brought home puppy number two, a Great Dane, our walking habits changed. At eight weeks, Willow wanted nothing to do with leashes, walks or the neighborhood. She was content staying close to home and exploring the back yard. Both dogs still get plenty of exercise wrestling with each other and chasing each other around the yard.

When I took Winston out for a walk around the block last week I realized how much I missed those walks. Those walks around familiar streets make me feel part of the neighborhood and the community.

I enjoy watching the progress of lots being cleared and houses being built on the last wooded lots. Boxes along the curb or a rental truck in the driveway announces who is moving in our out even before a realtor puts a sign up in the yard.

I’ve gotten to know a lot more of my neighbors and on my walks. They are working in the yard, on their car, or getting some exercise themselves. We always pause at the bus stop so the kids have a chance to pet Winston. Plus, we get to know the other dogs who live near us. Some bark at us from inside of their house, while others are out for walks, too.

I enjoy everyone’s Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas decorations. I’m amazed at the weekly piles of mattresses, appliances, and furniture on trash collection days. Squirrels, bunnies and cats watch as we walk by. If we time it right, we get to hear the owls talking to each other at dawn or dusk.

One neighbor has a garage full of birds singing in cages. Another is restoring a car from the 1940’s. Some greet us with heavy Russian or Hispanic accents. Many have gotten a new roof in the past year. One had the roof torn off by a tornado. Lots of cars parked along the street announce who’s having a party. A walker in front of one garage door hasn’t been moved in months.

When I go for walks, I feel alive. I think of stories to write. I think of prayers to pray. I find coins on the street. I check out what’s in people’s recycling bins. I whistle back at the birds. I feel like I live here.

Willow is coming along. She was willing to walk on a least around our front yard today. Just a few more steps every day and before you know it, she’ll be walking me around the block, too.

Posted in dogs, Life

Walking around: miles of kids, dogs, and friends

Posted on by William Douthwaite

My early morning and late afternoon walks with Winston (our West Highland White Terrier) take us around all the eleven streets of our neighborhood.

We know all the kids at the bus stops. The younger ones always want to pet the dog. Winston’s tail begins wagging four times a second when we’re still fifty yards away, so happy to see his friends. Keep in mind, he thinks everyone is his best friend. He enthusiastically wriggles, hops, spins, rolls over, and thoroughly enjoys their attention.

We know most of the dogs in the neighborhood, too. There’s Bailey the Shih Zhu, Blue the Golden Retriever, Ramona the Rat Terrier, Sadie the some-kind-of-terrier, Sophie the black miniature Poodle, Winston the Maltese (a miniature version of Winston), Gunnar the Brittney Spaniel, Franco the Rottwiler, Natchez, a mixed breed, Teddy a nervous little terrier, and an assortment of Labs, Shepherds, Terriers, and Chihuahuas. As I write this, I realize there are a lot of dogs around here. Sometimes they are out with their owners, sometimes they bark at us from a window. I always ask Winston, “What are they saying?” He refuse to tell me. Must be some kind of honor code among canines.

We watch all the new houses being built and get to meet a lot of the new neighbors moving in. They are, of course, all best friends.

We know where all the bunnies are going to be, too. They are so funny. The bunnies think that if they sit real still by the edge of the road, no one will notice them. Winston sees them long before I do. His excitement builds as he thinks, “I think I can catch him today!” Of course, he never does. The bunny is much faster and scoots off into the woods, leaving nothing but a scent behind. Winston doesn’t dwell on it. I am sure he thinks, “I’ll get him next time!”

Early this morning, an SUV began to back out of a driveway when Winston and I were about ten yards away. I don’t take any chances. I stopped and Winston immediately sat, just like he supposed to do. Once the man had backed out I said, “Heel,” and we were on our way. He rolled down his window and said, “Thank you!” I though that was really nice. Most people don’t even notice us and roar away. That little moment made my day.

Posted in Moments of grace

A walk in the dark

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Linda Xu on Unsplash

Technically, it was still dark. The sun wouldn’t officially rise for another hour. But this was the full moon’s moment as it illuminated my early morning walk with my dog.

About half way around the block, with another half mile to go, I realized what a blessing and privilege it is to be able to walk in the dark with no one else around and feel completely safe. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful.

I’ve been in cities in Haiti where every home was surrounded by a concrete walls topped with razor wire or pieces of broken glass. I would not be out walking during the day, much less at night. I’ve lived in the inner city, where the night echoed with the noise of arguments, speeding cars, and gunshots. The bitter thirty degrees below zero cold of a midwest winter cut any time I spent outside to less than a minute. One hundred mile an hour hurricane winds made me tell the dog, “You’re gonna have to hold it.”

But this morning’s air is motionless. Shorts and a t-shirt were perfect. No cars are out on the road. No one else is walking their dog. Owls hoot to each other in the distance before other birds begin their morning song. A motion light turns on as we walked by. The only sounds are my footsteps, the clicking of tiny toenails on the street, and the faint sound of a single engine airplane somewhere overhead.

To no one in particular I said out loud, “I’m going to write about this moment.”

Posted in Stories

Protection

Posted on by William Douthwaite

So we leashed up the dogs, put on sunglasses, grabbed a couple of blue poop bags, and headed out to take the dogs for a long walk on a hot afternoon. Within minutes, we met our neighbors from a few houses up pushing a stroller containing a precious great-grandchild.

One neighbor was carrying a well-made, tapered, three-foot long rod. “What’s that?” I asked.

She replied, “I use it to beat off the animals who come at me.”

Oh. That’s interesting. A little disturbing, too. I’ve lived on this block for twenty-five years. I don’t think I’ve ever been threatened by any kind of animal. But she’s lived here longer than me. What has she encountered?

A stray dog? Could happen. Once in a while one gets out. I usually call them over, pet them, check their collar, put a leash on them, and walk them home.

A cat? They’re around. Usually sleeping under someone’s car. My dog is always interested. They never attack but run away when I yell, “Kittykittykittykittykitty.”

A rat? My neighbor says they live down by the drainage ditch. I’ve never seen one.

A bobcat? We all have stories about the time we saw a bobcat. They are rare, stealthy and usually run away.

A diving hawk? They perch on the telephone poles, watching for snakes in the grass. They’ve dived towards me.

Oh, a snake? Maybe. I see more dead ones than alive. Or a snake skin on the road.

A black bear? Some Florida neighborhoods have them. None around here that I know of.

Maybe I’m naive. Maybe I’m brave! Maybe I can run fast. Maybe the neighborhood wildlife fear me and my brown dog.

I do not own a protective stick.

Posted in people

Just like them

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Ravi Patel on Unsplash

I had a few hours to wait for some service to be done on my car, so walked up U.S. from Coggin Honda in St. Augustine to Panera Bread in Cobblestone Village. It was a really nice morning, so I didn’t mind the walk at all. I was wearing a pair of jeans, a hoodie, some old sneakers, my backpack containing some things to read and work on when I got to my coffee destination.

On the way I passed a number of people walking and riding bikes. After a few nods and “Hi’s” I realized that I looked just like them. You wouldn’t think that would be a revelation. But when I am driving along that same stretch of road, my mind immediately assigns the label “homeless” to these folks. Now on foot, I wondered, “I wonder what label they’re putting on me?”

Not my name. Not my profession. Not someone having their car serviced. Not someone on their way for coffee. They know nothing about where I live, my relationships, my faith, or how healthy I am.

I don’t know that about them, either. That’s a good reminder when I begin to assume they don’t have a home, don’t have a job, and haven’t had a meal. Or when I characterize them as not having relationships, education or ambition. It doesn’t take much to visually characterize someone in a negative way. It doesn’t take much at all.

I don’t like that about myself. I don’t like the way my mind immediately sizes someone up, usually in a disparaging way. I don’t even know where that tendency comes from. Where did I learn that?

It’s good to walk around in jeans and a t-shirt, being seen – but not known. It disciplines my heart and mind so that I am not so quick to draw conclusions. It clears my head of shallow assumptions. It helps me notice rather than look through those around me. It teaches me humility, kindness and grace. Cause when it comes down to it, I am just like them.