As I exit the house this morning for my morning walk, the little black dog meets me at the gate. He seems to have become a permanent resident of the neighborhood, as I see him around most every day. He tells me each time I see him that he is now living at one house or another--his story changes every day. In any case, he seems happy enough and healthy enough, although he is certainly dusty and grimy, and, this morning, his head is covered with nettles which he has picked up from the bushes somewhere.
As I start off on the walk, the dog dances along beside me, behind me, in front of me--he's basically everywhere, like a fly that won't go away. I don't really like for the black dog to follow me, for he has no clue whatsoever about the dangers of the street. Every time a car races by (and drivers here seem to know no other way of going by), I cringe at the thought of the black dog getting squished, for he is not at all looking where he is going or where anything else is going.
Happily, the dog is distracted by something along the way before long and forgets about the walk. Just now, I am passing the field where four dogs live, across the street from the pasture, and they glance at me, raise their eyebrows and shake their heads knowingly. They are apparently already acquainted with the hyperactive caprices of the little black dog.
I meet the usual people along the way--two men who always smile and say hello, and a young woman who never looks up and never smiles and never says hello. They are all out to maintain their figures--or, like me, to regain what may be called a figure. And then there is the little old woman who goes from house to house looking for little jobs she might do, and there is the woman who is in charge of garbage collection in the neighborhood and always greets me or honks the horn as she passes on her motorbike.
And then of course there are the cows, who have begun to wander outside their pasture in search of richer pickings, as the grass in the home lot has been chewed down to the quick. Sadly, what they find, often enough, is garbage, and so may be found chewing on a plastic bag or a paper cup as you pass.
I'm not sure whether the morning walk is really good for me or not, in a physical sense, that is. I can't say that I've noticed any significant weight loss. And I don't know whether it improves or worsens the pain in my back. It does, however, get me started in the morning--fed somehow, wakened, warmed up like an engine in winter, and sets me on my way for the day.
As I start off on the walk, the dog dances along beside me, behind me, in front of me--he's basically everywhere, like a fly that won't go away. I don't really like for the black dog to follow me, for he has no clue whatsoever about the dangers of the street. Every time a car races by (and drivers here seem to know no other way of going by), I cringe at the thought of the black dog getting squished, for he is not at all looking where he is going or where anything else is going.
Happily, the dog is distracted by something along the way before long and forgets about the walk. Just now, I am passing the field where four dogs live, across the street from the pasture, and they glance at me, raise their eyebrows and shake their heads knowingly. They are apparently already acquainted with the hyperactive caprices of the little black dog.
I meet the usual people along the way--two men who always smile and say hello, and a young woman who never looks up and never smiles and never says hello. They are all out to maintain their figures--or, like me, to regain what may be called a figure. And then there is the little old woman who goes from house to house looking for little jobs she might do, and there is the woman who is in charge of garbage collection in the neighborhood and always greets me or honks the horn as she passes on her motorbike.
And then of course there are the cows, who have begun to wander outside their pasture in search of richer pickings, as the grass in the home lot has been chewed down to the quick. Sadly, what they find, often enough, is garbage, and so may be found chewing on a plastic bag or a paper cup as you pass.
I'm not sure whether the morning walk is really good for me or not, in a physical sense, that is. I can't say that I've noticed any significant weight loss. And I don't know whether it improves or worsens the pain in my back. It does, however, get me started in the morning--fed somehow, wakened, warmed up like an engine in winter, and sets me on my way for the day.
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