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Aug 13 2013

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Evening stroll

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The plan

was for a quiet, four mile walk where Beth and I got to hold hands, let the dogs get some exercises at the ends of their leashes, and the kids would follow along on their bicycles.  We’d catch up on the events of the day, decide on what to get for dinner, and the kids would get some bike time.  Perfect.
 
In reality, it was kind of a nightmare.  The dogs kept getting tangled in each other’s leashes.  They each pooped four blocks from the house.  Just close enough that we had to carry smelly, warm bags of dog poop with us for the remaining 90% of the walk.  Jake kept going way up ahead to the next intersection, then screaming back to us asking which way to go.  Gabe was pretty low-maintenance, but Liv’s bike chain fell off three times, leading to greasy hands for Dad.
 
We came across an old man who was unsteadily and painfully unloading boxes from his car to his apartment.  I stopped to help, of course.  He began telling me of his aches, pains, and his wife’s failing medical status.  Good deed: 3 minutes.  Post-good deed conversation and increasingly less subtle inching towards the door: 15 minutes.  At the end of those bonus fifteen minutes the dogs, wife and kids were anxious to get going.  The poop bags were collecting flies.  Good times.
 
We decided to cut our four mile walk in half.  The best part (only good part) was when we stopped at the field behind the high school to let the dogs run and the kids stretch.  We got to roll around on the ground with the pups and enjoy the sun on our skin.  We even got a couple of good pics:

Just look at that loving gaze he’s giving her.

She loves to be mauled.

I promise, I’m winning. Doesn’t she look ecstatic?

Of course, while we were relaxing with the dogs, Gabe and Liv decided to have a foot race to settle an argument they’d been having.  Liv got a stitch in her side and cried.  The crying upset Jake, which upset the general sense of peace we had finally found.  Spell broken, we set off for home.  Of course, Jake got home first, wouldn’t let Gabe play Wii, who then ran back to us to tattle with Liv.
Just another day in paradise.

 

 

About the author

BigCalfGuy

BigCalfGuy

I am a 38 year old, married, father of three amazing children; one of whom has autism. I fancy myself as more Atticus Finch than Holden Caulfield. Dynamite with a laser beam.

Permanent link to this article: http://www.bigcalfguy.com/evening-stroll/

1 comment

  1. Marcia Farwell

    looks like the dog was winning to me.

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