Went for a walk with Rigby this morning. This is a regular event, but is always cause for great excitement in his life. Like most dogs I've met, there's no such thing as too much walkies. Anyway we wandered up the quiet Sunday morning road with him leading the way, pulling at the lead and snuffling in bushes while I ambled behind him, occasionally calling him to heel.
Up at the shops I tied him up while I bought a couple of groceries, and then we started back again. As on million occasions previously I was stopped by an elderly woman smiling at Rigby as if she'd never seen anything so beautiful. The usual questions followed: he's a chocolate, isn't he? Yes. How old is he? About 7 months. Is he a good boy? Mmm, sometimes. And it's like that regularly, people stopping to enquire or pat him while he dances excitedly, jumping up and licking them; and others simply grinning at him as if the mere sight of such a beautiful creature is enough to brighten their day. Which might be fair enough.
By and large this attention is 100% for Rigby. I'm just the dolt on the other end of the lead, or so I figure - and I'm happy for it to be that way. I'm proud of the boy. Then as we neared home this morning a girl came the other way near the roundabout. She was all smiles at the sight of Rigby, but then she looked at me and gave me a smile all to myself.
We passed, Rigby and I walked on, and I ruminated on this. It occurred to me that this had happened before. And as I considered it I figured out why, or at least I think so.
Chances are without Rigby in tow this girl today would not have given me a second look. With him though - and this is strange - I bathe in his reflected glory: I must be a lovely guy to own such a beautiful dog. Can't argue with that.
*Rigby graduated from his obedience classes yesterday. No dog runs through a tunnel as well as he does.Good boy!
**Yes, this is the week for asterisks. Next week: footnotes.
