Believe me, there is no self when walking the dogs.
There is no pride when you’re picking up dog poop.
There is a sort of Zen-like silence since the pooches can’t talk to you.
There is a sense of pure awareness trying to keep Lady away from potentially biting people.
Balance is important when you’re steering Chico and Lady is barking incessantly at the passers-by.
You have to learn tolerance when the dogs are pulling you in the direction they want to go.
Cooperation is key to keep both dogs from trampling one another.
There is no Time. This is especially difficult when you’re late for work, it’s raining (or snowing), you missed your bus (or train) and both dogs need to go out.
The discipline it takes to make sure that the dogs get their walk three times a day (morning, afternoon, & evening) is a lesson in itself.
You have to learn how to forgive your next-door neighbor when they complain about “curbing your dog” (even though you know it wasn’t you).
Being still is easy at six in the morning. No normal human being is up yet.
Realizing that we are all connected happens when I spot another dog-walker and we exchange knowing glances.