The four-footed one is a bit like a tank in that no terrain is safe from her paws. Grass? She uses it as a pillow. Dirt? Bring in on. Mud? She is an expert in the stuff. Rocks? If there small she will walk in them, larger ones are meant for climbing on. Sand? She exfoliates her paws with the stuff. She loves the feel of damp moss and isn’t fussed by the texture of twigs. She washes her toes in puddles and glides on the snow and ice.
Her owner on the other hand is not a tank. Her owner does not always enjoy the terrain we encounter on our walks. Snow and ice aren’t so much a glide as a slide or slip! I’d prefer not to have my toes squishing in the mud or damp moss. Damp sand is acceptable if we are walking along the beach. Rocks and twigs aren’t my thing; I don’t mind grass, just not with bare feet.
So why am I telling you this? Because dear friends today’s walk started with cement which gave way to dirt and grass. The dirt and grass gave way to rocks and sticks on hard packed dirt. And all of that stuff led me to realize that my companion, the one I thought was a dog, is in fact a tank of sorts. While I was struggling with the terrain she was having a ball. While my feet were less than thrilled her paws were in paw heaven. Somehow this doesn’t seem fair. And I wonder how I got to where I am. So it a case of too many hours in shoes or is this why early humans perhaps were more nomadic, to get away from things which were unpleasant underfoot? Did I mention I’m in awe of this sweet dog of mine? That is when my feet aren’t suffering from the path she chooses for us!