Running With The Dog

We have a greyhound. She’s mostly a lovely, lazy puppy who spends her days lying on her cushions, stealing any comforter she can get to, and making sad-puppy-eyes at us any time we get close to the cabinet containing her treats. She LOVES to go for walks, and since I’m home now, I get to take her for lots of them. Here’s the thing. She was built for speed – bursts that rival a horse. I was…not. On days when she’s feeling especially frisky, we spend our half mile trotting, me going a little faster than is strictly comfortable to walk, and she going as slowly as she can while still feeling like she’s running, sort of. It takes me a couple strides to catch up when she decides to go faster, and when an interesting smell catches her attention, I take a couple strides to stop, but she can stop on a dime. I want her to enjoy her walks, so I try to keep up, but the end result is a fairly comical start and stop, with her jerking me into faster action, or me trying desperately to stop before I trip over her/the leash/my own fat feet. There’s no rhythm to it, just our sweet puppy’s whim.

It’s weird, but lately it’s become a pretty decent metaphor for my life – everything needs my attention RIGHT NOW and preferably a few seconds ago, then falls into a lull for a while, before I realize I should have stopped before I crash and trying desperately to keep all the things in the air. I miss a predictable rhythm to life. I guess finding my rhythm is just going to have to go on the “Long Term Goals” list, right after making a living, rearing my kids into decent human beings, maintaining a healthy relationship, and beating our home into shape.  I still feel incredibly lucky that I don’t have to do any of those things on my own, and I know I’m in an enviable position. Time to carve my niche some more.