It's a Dog's Life.

I have a confession to make.
Please do not judge me too harshly.
I am ashamed to admit it openly but I think that being honest will help me be a better person.

I have a confession to make and it is that I have trained-dog-envy.

There.
I've said it.
It's out there in the open.
I have honest-to-goodness, slack-jawed, eye-popping envy when I see owners with their dogs pitter-pattering in step with them on walks down the sidewalks, at soccer games, in the mall, at the local Barkery (for goodness sakes) where you and Fido can share a Double Doggie Latte and Human Cupcakes too!

I have that envy because I am still at the stage where sweating profusely during walks is a norm and the arm-lurch a position that is almost comfortable.
I am certain my biceps are ginormous because nothing says WORK OUT like the 80 pound-doggie- lurch- of- doom!
I'm considering a WORK OUT VIDEO.  Because, why not, right?
Like the other day, I saw a work out video that incorporated 80s dance moves and fashion and I had to just stop everything and watch because it was like some sort of awesome train wreck of disaster on that video with all that hair and fluorescent tight clothing!
So, move over Jillian Michaels and your Shred it videos!
Make room for Brigette VanHuisstede and her Lurch It, Baby One More Time video.
It would feature me and my 80 pound chien lurching it like there was no tomorrow.  At the end, I would flex my biceps while the sun was setting behind me....maybe I would also be standing somewhere picturesque like the open, dandelion-flecked field near my house.
This could be good, people!
Sign up now!
(for the video).

But back to my envy issue.

Let's just be all open here.

I have this neighbour.  She lives across the street from me and I am certain she is The Dog Whisperer.  She is often outside, weeding, hanging laundry or doing some other sort of outside activity and there is often one, two or three dogs with her.  They are not leashed.  They are not sporting a 53-point harness that is also attached to a leash.  There is no wooden, chainlink or invisible fencing bordering her corner lot.  And yet those dogs stay on her property, listen to her commands and calmly follow her around.  It is a beautiful sight.

There is Roxie, the Jack Russel terrier.  She is white with a brown eye patch.  She is wild, rambunctious and has the energy of a two-year-old hopped up on sugar.

There is Ralph, a black lab.  Steady.  Solid.  Lumbering and friendly.

A new addition is Zahara, a miniature husky.  She has one brown eye and one blue eye and is immediately reminiscent of a wolf.
These dogs frolic with one another but mostly they just hang out.
All calm and stuff.

When I walk by her property with Yukon in his 91-point harness, leash and practically a saddle and a bit, I feel like a circus show going by.  I would wave but I have a death grip on the doggie who sees his friends and just wants to play.  I have learned that it is cool to unhook his leash, fall back onto my butt-cheeks with sheer exhaustion and just enjoy the moment.
Yukon joins his friends.  They bark and lick and jump all over each other.

Yesterday I took my middle son to his soccer practise.  Everyone seems to have a dog there, so, I thoughts to myself yesterday, "I should bring Yukon!  It will be great fun to have him there, getting all socialized!  He is homeschooled, you know!"
So I did.
The moment that I opened the car door and he leaped in a golden arc of joy towards all those PEOPLE and BALLS, I had several thoughts.

Thought #1:  This was a colosally bad idea.

Thought #2:  This could totally get rid of any left-over lymphatic cording that I have hindering my arm movement.  Boo Yah!  I should let my physiotherapist know!

Thought #3:  Why didn't I just bring my lawn chair and cell phone and join all the other parents sitting there quietly watching their children practise soccer drills in the hot, humid evening hashtagging key parts periodically?

Thought #4:  I didn't have time for Thought #4 because we were dashing across the parking lot towards Donovan's practise field.

But then.....seven gadgillion soccer balls rolled by and Yukon didn't immediately eat them.  When I said "Leave it", he ignored them.  Woot.  Treat. Treat.  Treat.  (that's me rewarding Yukon for listening to my command.  With treats.  Which are tiny pieces of his dog food.  Sometimes I treat him with ice cubes.  Because he will eat ANYTHING).

And then, forty-mazillion children ran by waving their arms unrestrainedly and speaking in high-pitched excited tones.  I could feel Yukon tensing up 80 pounds of muscle but I said, "Stay with me" which means stay with me and he listened.

Tongue lolling.

Slobber dripping.

Paws pitter-pattering.

And I thought to myself, "Dude, you're doing it.  You are Whispering Dog, Girl!" .

We sat together on a hill over-looking the soccer field.  The sun was setting.  A breeze whipped through my hair.  My dog sat at attention by my side and he was calm and attentive.

It was a good moment.

Me and the Chien.