This past weekend, we went out for a walk through a wooded area near our home. We closed the laptop, put aside the laundry, delayed the dinner prep, and ignored the bathroom that hasn't been cleaned in weeks (and weeks).
And once we were out there we even unclipped the leash. Gulp. And he ran. Ack. He ran.
He ran ahead of us, and down to the creek, and way up the hill to where we couldn't hear his collar tags jingle anymore. And when that happened, I will admit I had the makings of a heart attack. I have had far too moments of seeing a dog of mine gleefully run off suddenly with no recollection of that name I've called to them so many times before. But this time? we called to him and although it took a few agonizing seconds (my heart, my freakin' heart), there he was - bursting down the trail towards us.
And we kept walking, sloshing through mud, breathing in the cool bright air, hunting squirrels, taking pictures, and carrying appropriately-sized sticks - the three of us happily unleashed on a Sunday afternoon.