Walking the Dog

“You have to learn to live with your mistakes, but you certainly should not allow yourself to live in your mistakes.”

I hope I remember that one, I think to myself as my dog squats for her morning bowel movement.  I must admit, I am jealous of the little mutt.  Besides being adorable, she is regular.  I am neither.  Yet, we walk along the same path.  Her bathroom needs give my days purpose.  What else would I be doing?  Writing, reading, sleeping, eating, and on rare occasions moving my own blasted barricaded bowels. 

My mind wanders.  Her nose seeks out scents only a four-legged animal can smell.  Along the lawns, in the bushes and up the trees her nose leads her diligently and I follow using my other more reliable senses, sight and sound.  The birds, and the cars mix together, and other dogs voice their discontent from behind the windows when my pooch stops to pee on their grass.  This is the stroll.  My dog and I are walking along life, not in it, not of it, not owning it.  Just walking.  "Keep walking" I tell myself.