Walking with Maddie

Dear Diane has been sleeping in the guest room for a while because of her shoulder replacement surgery and its aftereffects. Unfortunately she awakens often during the night, because she either slept on the wrong side or used her right arm a bit too much the day before. Either way it results in pain. So she sits up and reads or watches TV until the pain subsides. In her kindness she thought this would disturb my sleep. (She was right about that.) She decided, therefore, to sleep in the guest room, leaving me in the king size bed with Maddie, our 12-year-old Bichon Frise.

Now, I'm sure many of your will chastise us for letting our dog sleep in our bed. But when we "rescued" Maddie she was already five years old and pretty set in her ways. She had also been mistreated and was a bit of a psychological wreck. In fact, the rescue vet had put her on a doggie version of Prozac. Although we got her off her meds quickly, she still needed lots of loving attention. Given her age and condition, we thought it would be difficult, perhaps even a bit cruel, to attempt to crate train her. The result? She sleeps in our bed. You must also understand that she's a Bichon, and is a perfect example of this stubborn, self-centered breed.

Because the bed is large and she's a small dog, you'd think I wouldn't even know if she were there. But every morning, long before sunrise, usually between 5 and 6 a.m., Maddie snuggles up against my back and leans into me. She'll keep this up for a half-hour or so, increasing the pressure, hoping I'll decide to get up. When I resist, as I did today, she begins to whine softly, letting me know she's ready to begin her day and expects me to join her, first by preparing her breakfast and then taking her on a long walk.

Maddie on Her Morning Walk

This morning Maddie woke me a bit later than usual, and the whining didn't begin until after 6:30. Within 30 minutes she had eaten, I was dressed, and we opened the front door to greet another of God's gifts: a beautiful day in The Villages -- Sunny and 64 F this morning, but a warm 88 F this afternoon. 

Although sunrise was still 15 or 20 minutes away, the eastern sky was already aglow. Indeed, by this time I could see only a few of the sky's brightest objects. Toward the southeast only Jupiter stood out, as befits the god of the sky. Neighboring Mars and Saturn were still visible but barely. Vega could be seen near the zenith, but the other stars were fading quickly. 

As I looked heavenward, Maddie of course looked earthward, continuing her life's work of sniffing everything that passes under her remarkable nose. And so we walked, slowly to accommodate her sniffing and in whatever direction Maddie chose. 

Today's walk followed a rather long (about two miles) circuitous route through several nearby neighborhoods. Because of so many businesses are closed, we encountered very little car and golf cart traffic. This, of course, is good since dogs and those walking them seem to be invisible to many drivers. But even more surprising was the increase in walkers and runners. Most mornings, especially in the pre-dawn darkness, I may see only one or two people. But today lots of folks, both individuals and couples, were out walking. It was nice to see so many people enjoying the morning. I suppose for many it was a cure for cabin fever, offering a temporary respite from voluntary home confinement.

But then there was that one oddity. Maddie and I had been walking for only a few minutes when we turned onto a side street and noticed about a dozen people, well spaced out to enforce social distancing, but all walking in our direction. Without a sidewalk and almost no traffic, they had filled the street. Like all of us who live here, they were elderly. None moved very quickly and some limped along trying to keep up. Now, it was still early, and with the almost risen sun behind them, they were all shadows and silhouettes. If you can picture the scene, you might understand why my strange mind suddenly announced: Zombie Apocalypse! I'm sorry but I felt as if I had fallen into a scene from one of those wacko zombie movies. Of course, as we passed, everyone smiled and greeted us, a few petted Maddie, and no one tried to eat my brains.

Except for the rare zombie scare, I truly enjoy these daily walks. Today we spotted a gator in one of the many neighborhood ponds: not a very big one, but big enough for me to keep my distance. We witnessed some early morning repositioning flights of water birds, and followed a large flock of white ibises as they flew from one pond to another. A large blue heron passed right over us, so low we could feel the effect of his wings. We watched a kingfisher as he hovered  anxiously, then plummeted into the water and grabbed his breakfast. That same peaceful, healthy, virus-free air was filled with the greetings of mockingbirds, cardinals, red-wing blackbirds, and countless other songbirds. From stars and planets to birds and gators, it was all a wonderful display of God's creative power. Even Maddie glanced up on occasion and seemed to savor the day.

Lots of Ibises

I feel sorry for those unable to get out and take even a short walk, but I especially pity those who walk or run daily, but do so without noticing the beauty that surrounds them. They look so grim as they strain forward to reach their 10,000 steps, eyes glued to the road before them, while the noise in their earbuds blocks the greetings of passersby and the sounds of nature. Life is just too short to ignore the wonders that surround us.

Maddie with her Reward

When we returned home Maddie and I decided she deserved a special treat, one of those milk bones for large dogs. You see, she doesn't realize she's little.

God's peace, friends, and stay healthy.

It's a Dog's World

For almost three years Diane and I have shared our home with a wonderful little dog named Maddie. Now almost nine years old she is a rescued Bichon Frise who has seemingly adapted well to our household. Last evening I took a photo of of her doing what she does best (below). As you can see, she makes herself comfortable wherever she likes, and in this instance has made good use of one of Diane's Christmas pillows and a red throw. The deep dents in the white sofa cushions are the result of her testing out various napping spots. She prefers the extra-soft, down-filled cushions on the living room sofa and chairs...as do I. Fortunately, Bichons don't shed so I need not follow her around with a vacuum cleaner.

Maddie's a very happy little critter and complains only when we leave her alone for more than a few moments. She also smiles a lot which is a common trait among Bichons, a remarkably sociable and friendly breed. Right now she's resting on the bed in the guest bedroom from which she has a commanding view of our front yard. She seems to believe her primary job is to warn us when anyone steps foot on the property. I consider this adequate work for her room and board; but because she also offers us real affection, we provide her with all kinds of tasty treats -- a true symbiotic relationship.

Among her favorite treats are the large sized milk-bones (see photo below), the kind marketed to big dogs. But when given one of these treats Maddie won't eat it, at least not right away. She will walk throughout the house, milk-bone sticking out of her mouth, sometimes for an hour or more. Then she'll usually "bury" it under a throw pillow and retrieve it the next day. Eventually she will eat it but not before completing this ritual of instinctive canine behavior.

Maddie and I walk together for a mile or two every morning and every evening. The Villages is home to many dogs, so we often encounter several as we stroll through the surrounding neighborhoods. Interestingly, Maddie has never barked or growled at or tried to attack another dog, regardless of the other dog's attitude. Based on her reaction to the dogs we encounter, I've concluded that she places dogs in one of three categories. 

First, there are the nasty little -- and some not so little -- dogs. They represent perhaps 20% of the dogs we meet on our walks and include the small yappers and ankle-biters that really care little for other living beings. The category also includes a few -- and only a few -- large dogs that view other dogs as prey. For example, we sometimes encounter a large Akita who growls whenever it sees another human or canine. Maddie senses the nastiness of all these dogs long before they approach and simply encourages me to avoid them.

Maddie seems to lump many other dogs into the second category. These are the indifferent dogs and represent maybe a third of the dogs we meet. Maddie tries to approach them, wagging her tail in friendship, but they simply ignore her and continue on. These rejections of her offered affection always seem to surprise her. but she quickly puts it behind her. 

The final category includes what I call the dogs with good hearts, the dogs that simply enjoy the presence of humans and other dogs. Maddie herself falls in this category, so I suppose it's natural that she would gravitate to others of her kind. When she spots one approaching, she will often just sit down and wait for them to arrive. They then sniff and play and enjoy each other.

As an aside, I've often noticed that the person on the other end of the leash mimics the behavior of the dog (or vice versa): grumpy, indifferent and happy dogs tend to be accompanied by grumpy, indifferent or happy human beings respectively.

Speaking of happy dogs, someone recently sent me a link to a video of a rescued Pit Bull named Brinks who smiles constantly -- certainly among the happiest-looking dogs I've ever seen.  I've included two videos of Brinks, the one my friend sent me and another of Brinks walking through his Brooklyn neighborhood. This is one neat dog who has apparently become a YouTube celebrity.






Actually, the Pit Bull is a wonderful breed, a naturally friendly and protective dog that makes an excellent family pet. Sadly the breed has been often mistreated and misused by far too many people resulting in its rather bad reputation. In fact, one neighborhood dog is part Pit Bull and he and Maddie have become fast friends. He's about four times her size but that doesn't seem to bother her at all. His name happens to be Trump (no relation), a name he was given long before the onset of the recent presidential race. On our twice-daily walks Maddie insists we go out of our way to visit Trump. 

Over the years our family has been blessed by many good dogs, both large and small, but I really think little Maddie is my favorite. 

By the way, according to the Harvard Health blog: “The evidence reviewed by the AHA indicates that dog owners are more likely to exercise, have a better cholesterol profile, have lower blood pressure, be less vulnerable to the physical effects of stress, and be more likely to survive a heart attack.” Sounds like a good reason to bring a dog into your life.

Dogs and Other of God's Creatures

Living here in The Villages I've become more attuned to that which surrounds me. I suppose it has something to do with retirement and the simple fact that I have more time to notice that which had escaped my notice in the past. In recent years I've also developed the habit of walking a few miles in the early morning. At first these walks were speed-walks of the kind recommended by young, fit, marathon-running doctors -- you know, the irritating sort of physician who expects his patients to be clones of himself. Anyhow, for a while I was doing very well, grinding along at a four-mile-per-hour pace and delighting in the pre-dawn solitude while listening to audio books on my iPhone. I especially enjoyed my audio pilgrimage through the novels of Anthony Trollope. They're really quite wonderful.

Maddie, Ready to Walk

Then, a couple of years ago, we got Maddie, our rescued Bichon Frise, and my routine underwent a major change. This little critter likes (needs) to be walked twice daily, early morning and late afternoon. But except for the occasional short sprint, Maddie is no speed-walker. As a dog she explores the world around her largely through her sense of smell. This demands frequent abrupt stops to inhale those free molecules rising from shrubs, tree trunks, light poles, individual blades of grass, and yes, from fire hydrants. My power walks have become mere strolls interrupted by this little dog's fascination with odors.

People who know -- including Dear Diane -- have told me that I am allowing the dog to rule the master, and that I, the human, should take charge during these walks. I must, they insist, make Maddie walk at my pace, thereby forcing her to ignore all those olfactory stimulants that so attract her. I had decided to do just that when I read an article written by a veterinarian who encourages dog owners to do exactly what I had been doing. Dogs, the writer said, are frustrated hunters that need to sniff and explore their world through their noses. It's their way of connecting with their wild roots. All those smells represent what Jack London labeled a "Call of the Wild" and to prohibit a dog from following this instinctive behavior is nothing less than cruel. Well, as you might imagine, after reading this sound advice I decided to stick with the Maddie-friendly strolls and try to enjoy them. Maddie is happy, I've accommodated, and my doctor will just have to accept this less strenuous regimen. I also miss my audio books, but with Maddie leading the way I need to be more alert to the sound of approaching pickups, cars and golf carts. This rules out ear-buds.

This slower, dog-dictated pace offers another benefit. I have begun to notice things. For example, because I no longer listen to audio books on my walks, I've learned to recognize the calls of many different birds. I've even become acquainted with a few individual birds who inhabit particular trees and greet Maddie and me every morning as we pass by. 

Osprey Perched High-Fish in Talons

On many summer afternoons we see the osprey who perches high in a large live-oak tree in a neighbor's backyard, his talons often clutching a newly caught fish. He lets the world know of his fishing skill by broadcasting a continual series of high-pitched squeaks. He then flies off still clutching the fish. Perhaps he takes it to the nest and feeds the family.

Maddie and I first heard and then spotted our osprey again as we were returning home from this evening's walk. He was perched high in the same tree, but then I noticed a second bird, perhaps a mate. I went inside, grabbed a camera, and was able to catch one of these beautiful birds as it flew off and passed directly overhead.

Our Osprey Directly Overhead

One great blue heron spends his mornings perched, precariously for so large a bird, on the same branch of the same small tree located at the edge of a local pond. He always gives us a glance, finds us uninteresting, and returns to his preening.

Somewhat surprisingly Maddie has no interest in birds, regardless of their size. Ducks, cranes, ibises, herons -- she ignores them all. She's actually walked right alongside a pair of sandhill cranes, with each of the three seemingly oblivious to the others. It's all very odd. Unlike many local dogs, she also ignores the common lizards and rare snakes that cross our path. 

Sandhill Crane in our Front Yard -- a Portrait

It's mammals that interest Maddie, although she seems to discriminate between the domestic and the wild. Remarkably she has never barked or growled at another dog. She greets them all, regardless of their size, with a friendly wagging of her tail. If a dog doesn't respond in kind, she simply backs off. And a few months ago she encountered what I believe was her first cat. She seemed mildly interested, but then decided it wasn't worth her time and returned to her sniffing duties. 

But if Maddie spots a wild mammal -- squirrel, rabbit, muskrat, armadillo, whatever... -- she immediately gives chase. This, of course, stops abruptly once the leash reaches its full extension. She might be a strong little dog, but she weighs only 15 pounds and I weigh...well, considerably more. Just as well, since I doubt she's ever considered what she would do if she actually caught up with one of these wild critters.

One of the more intimidating mammals we have come across is the fox squirrel. A family of these lived in one of our live oak trees in the back yard. I confronted one for a photo op and as you can see, he was not particularly pleased.

Mean-looking Fox Squirrel

Subtropical Florida, of course, also has its share -- actually more than its share -- of insects. Most are easily ignored but every so often one encounters a bug worthy of attention. This occurred a few days ago as Dear Diane and I visited a parishioner. Leaving her house, I couldn't help but notice the largest bug I've ever seen (photo below) clinging to the side of our friend's car. Some sort of cricket or grasshopper, he was at least five inches long (no exaggeration). With the sole exception of butterflies, I really don't care for bugs. Knowing this, my loving spouse gently picked him up and tossed him onto the lawn. This is just one more reason for celebrating our marriage almost 48 years ago.

Jiminy Crickets!!

And so these twice daily walks of ours have given me a new and enhanced appreciation of God's Creation. Ospreys and herons, mockingbirds and cardinals, crickets and black snakes, muskrats and fox squirrels...oh, yes, and black-bellied whistling ducks -- they don't quack, they whistle -- all these wondrous creatures have given me another reason to be joyful, another reason to realize how good being is.

Black-Bellied Whistling Ducks