Our walks are getting shorter these days, as we mosie along a bit more.
Charlie has decided that as his days wane he will now take time to smell the roses.
And smell them he does.
I have never seen a dog bury their nose into blooms like Charlie does and then he’d close his eyes, if just for a moment.
As we continue on our journey his lopsided smirk speaks of a secret that he alone holds dear and yet his joy is contageous.
I admit. I have walked by each garden of flowers for days upon end. This is our normal route after all.
But did I see the flowers? Did I take a moment to truly ponder their intricacies? Did I stop and deeply drink of their scent or plunge my smaller human nose into their midst?
I come to an abrupt stop as I realize that I have come to the end of the leash.
I turn to see Charlie sitting placidly on the top step of a recessed garden to my right.
He is unmoving. He will stay where he pleases. And his eyes. They are sending me a message. I’m going too fast.
I am missing out.
He wants me to stop and see.
Since he has been around a couple years, he’s not sure how much longer he can wait to teach me to see the world around me and take it in. Today he has set his mind (and his stubborn muscled self) to sitting on this step until he is satisfied that I have at least for the moment grasped todays lesson.
We have walked together for 10 years of loyal friendship, a partnership not found between humans.
There is just something about him, that makes me want to see.
Image: Unsplash -Ken Treloar