We (my Great Dane and I) see her most mornings. A woman, probably in her seventies, walks her small dog (maybe a miniature schnauzer?) on a similar route through our neighborhood. I can see by the still-lit street lights that she’s wearing a yellow zip hoodie and a baseball cap.
She’s usually talking. She’s talking to herself, the dog, or someone on her phone. It’s hard to tell. We always say, “Good morning” to each other as we pass. Or an appropriate seasonal greeting like, “Happy New Year.”
Even though it’s still dark, I can tell she’s approaching from fifty yards down the road. She never walks straight down the other side of the street. She zig-zags from one side of the street to the other. I assume this is her way of getting in twice the distance or double the steps on her daily walk. More bang for the buck, right?
Until she sees us. Then she passes by on the other side, a safe distance from the beast at my side. The little dog acts like we’re not there. The big dog always wants a closer sniff. But we’re not doing that today, or any day for that matter.
I’d never thought of the zig-zag strategy for packing in more miles. I can picture my dog walking down the center of the road, letting me zig-zag, wondering what I’m doing.
Waite for it... 