The sidewalk is my runway. The leash is my agreement with the world.
I walk ahead because the news comes first to those who lead. The breeze brings bulletins from up ahead—a dog’s passing, a dropped crumb, the faint ghost of a cat. I must assess it all. My tail is my banner, held high, telling the world I am here, and I am confident.
But confidence is a circle. It must always come back to its centre.
So I turn. A quick glance over my shoulder, my ears swivelling like satellites. There she is. Claire. My person. My steady heartbeat at the other end of our line. My look asks the only question that matters: You are there? We are still together in this?
Her presence is the “yes” that lets me turn back to the world. Without it, the sidewalk would be just concrete. With it, it is a kingdom.
I am the scout. I choose the path to the interesting post, to the shadowy hedge, to the sunny spot. But she holds the magic pouch that dispenses joy, and she knows the way home when the sky rumbles. This is our balance. I lead with my nose; she leads with her knowing.
My courage is real, but it has a switch. A floating bag, an unexpected crack in the pavement—these things are sudden, silent shouts in a language I don’t understand. When they happen, my bold march becomes a leap to her side. The world is too loud, and I need the quiet of her legs. She is my shield. Then, when the danger has passed (because she says it has), I can be the scout again.
And the people we meet. They are stories with hands. Some stories smell like kindness and pockets. I approach with gentle eyes, a slow-wagging tail, a polite sit. I offer them my best self. See how good I am? Would your story include a small, tasty chapter for me? I watch Claire as I do this. I am not begging. I am collaborating. Showing her how well I can speak the human language of manners.
In the end, every walk is the same beautiful loop. I pull ahead into the new smell. I circle back to the old love. I am bold because she is my safety. I explore because she is my home.
I am not the boss. I am the discoverer. She is not the follower. She is the keeper of the map. And our agreement, written in the slack and pull of the leash between us, is the truest thing I know.
