Walk the dog

For many, taking a dog for a walk is common place. In the dead of winter you put on your three layers of winter clothes, grab a leash and a handful of poop bags and off you go. It's a Saturday night and the mere thought of waiting in line for a table at a local restaurant and then hitting a movie, sandwiched with complete strangers for two hours, is just more than I can handle. We have two Italian Greyhounds, Gilbert and Ruby. The ideal dogs in that they love to cuddle, do not require being walked, and find their happiness on the sofa tucked underneath a warm down comforter. Aside from occasionally popping out to eat, drink and drain, they are content within their little bundle.

Tonight however I wanted to do something different. Tonight I was going to show my two little rug-rats how the other hounds live and take them out to see the holiday lights on an actual walk. Not that I think these two lovable little creatures with brains the size of raisins are going to embrace and relish the moment, but because I wanted to make them a part of the holiday experience out in the world.

I wrapped up the pups and threw on a coat and headed out. The air was cold and crisp. I took my first deep breath and felt ice cold air crawl up my nostrils, brush my cheeks and cleanse my thoughts. Gilbert took a deep breath only to gag and choke for almost half a block as his body was introduced to the shock of actual exercise. Ruby trailed a bit behind, with her head down and appearing very focused. After five blocks the three of us gained our rhythm and the walk was steady and smooth. Once we were on a roll, I started taking in the scenery around me.

My first observation was that no one closed their blinds. Every house had a clear view to the inside. As we slowly made our way down the sidewalks, I eavesdropped into strangers' lives, looking at the various scenes within each display. A twenty something sitting on the coach in front of a 55" flat screen TV watching Bridget Jones Diary, a family just sitting down to dinner, a woman sitting facing the window - with six watercolor paintings all trimmed in thick gold frames behind her - reading a book, all living their lives. As I passed each one, I imagined what their story might be, a mother of three preparing for the holidays making the family dinner, a girl curled up with a good book surrounded by the relics of her adventures thus far, a former member of the mafia on the witness protection program pretending to be a law-abiding citizen who pays their taxes and does an honest day's work. I wondered what set of circumstances brought them to their particular place in the world.

As we wound our way around the corner back towards the house I saw a scene that actually made me stop and gawk. A Tudor-style home with a vast pitched roof with various shades of red earth tone shingles and a two story living room window with a 10 foot tree lit up in the back ground. Milton Bradley itself couldn't have orchestrated a better photo-op. By the living room window was a table with a board game surrounded by eight people. As they sipped out of wine glasses and shook the dice in their hands with fevered excitement you could tell the anticipation was building - will it be snake eyes? a pair of sixes? what will it be? The player's heads would sweep back in laughter as they engaged in conversation while playing what seemed to be the best game ever made.

I have just been laid off - coincidently at the same time our team had the boss turn himself in to the DOL when we discovered our 401(k) contributions had never made it to our accounts. It had only been days, but it felt like a lifetime. Happily, the person I was for many years is being redefined. My hope is that the person who wants her friends and family to understand how much they mean to her will dominate over the career crazed idiot I had been for all those years. As this hope surfaced to my conscience once again, I realized that even two weeks ago I would not have able to even see this event. And by see it I mean really experience it, take in the significance of it. The joy life has to offer, the things in life we are blessed with having. I knew what I was asking for from Santa this year.....the ability to recognize joy and truly appreciate all that I have. Because it is a lot.