Me, My Human, and Our Evening Walks

Smells. Smells. Wonderful smells. My nose twitches, and I can't stop wagging.

She, my human girl, who I love, who calls me "baby" and "good boy" and even sometimes "Stinker," smiles down at me. Together, we sit in front of an open den hole. I will admit that these den holes confuse me from time to time, but my human, my girl, is too smart. The cumbersome wire mesh never tricks her.

When my nose bumps against it, she laughs, "Calm down, Davie-boy! Soon, soon! After the rain!"

I don't understand her mouth sounds, but I know my name, so I turn and am confronted with a puff of her glorious breath. Her smell is much nearer than the smells outside, so I stick my nose to her mouth and sniff. Then, lick. Traces of food are still there, and my heart pounds. Everything at this moment is exciting. My human, my pack, is right here next to me in front of the open den hole, and together, we are surrounded by the best smells. I start to drool, happy, so happy that I can hardly contain myself. 

"Outside!" I whine, then bark, "Please! Outside! Food! Smell!"

"Soon!" She laughs, "Calm down. We'll go soon!"

She gets up and heads to the food room. Of course, I follow. I would follow her everywhere if I could, but I will especially follow her to the food room. She sets about her tasks, and I set about mine, sniffing every inch of this floor like I had only a few heartbeats prior, just on the off-chance I had accidentally left a poor, sweet morsel behind. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her open the big cold box, which is not the box leading to the delicious "good-boy treats," but still, my interest is piqued.

Meat sticks are in the big cold box, and sometimes, if I am an extra good boy and she has been away longer than she has promised, I am given those. I stop sniffing and watch her intensely, but she does not pull out a meat stick, so with a huff, my nose is back to the floor. Sadly, there is nothing left to lick up. I have, once again, been too thorough in my endeavors, as is expected of the "bestest sniffer." Therefore, I cannot be disappointed. I look at my girl with a satisfied snort.

She smiles at me, taking a long drink of the smell-less liquid. Next to her, on the "no-no counter," is her tube, which she carries with her on our Walks. My tail stops wagging as I adjust to this revelation. Then, I stiffen. My leg muscles coil as I stand tall, staring hard at the tube. I don't dare look at my human, but I keep my ears pricked, honed to her every movement. When she finally grabs her tube, I jump into action, bouncing and barking.

In my excitement, I don't even know what I say.

"No!" She says in her "no-no" tone, "Davie! No!"

But I'm far too excited to register her admonishments. I huff and puff and bark, zooming around our den. My body takes me on its own accord. I jump over "no-no" seats, and the fuzzy patch of floor slides under my paws as I rush over it. Not even the slippery, shiny floor deters me as my toenails tap furiously against it, magically finding friction.

My girl continues to tell me no, but there is laughter in her voice as she gathers her things and goes towards the big den hole that leads to the outside. I slide my way after her, knowing in my heart what we are about to do together, and it is far more glorious than sitting together in front of the smaller open den holes.

With a whine, I beg her to open it. I have never wanted anything more in this world than for my human to open the big den hole.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," She rolls her eyes, tugging on her silly Walk paws. "I said we would go."

I am excited, but I notice she hasn't said the magic word yet, and I hope this isn't some cruel trick, but then I remember, my human could never be so mean. She is a good, fair human, who I love and who loves me.

"Here," She smiles, opening the den hole, "go wait outside while I get my shoes on. Go on! Outside!"

I don't need more permission. I shoot off into my territory at top speeds with no slippery ground to stop me. The smells of the wind pierce my nose, and for a moment, I experience an almost overwhelming euphoria until one particular smell floods my senses. I practically fall over myself as I come to a sudden halt, smelling the blade of grass that has caught my attention. It's a squirrel—the squirrel, who taunts me from his perch in the big tree.

I pee over his pee, so he knows I know. One day, I will get him. Maybe even today! I take off and sniff for more clues, hardly noticing as my human passes me.

"Come on, Davie, this way," She says, and my ears twitch in acknowledgment, but I'm still sniffing, still looking for that pesky squirrel.

"Davie," She warns, and I look up at her briefly, trying to convey my loftier ambitions, but humans aren't so in tune.

"What? You don't want to go?"

I ignore her voice, but a familiar knock echoes across my territory. I freeze and whip my head around. There, my wonderful human stands with one hand on her hip and the other on the closed wood hole. She knocks again, and I take off running toward her.

She smirks, "Thought so."

I don't know what her mouth sounds mean, but I understand the knocking. It has my full attention. Soon, the wood hole will squeak-squeak open, and the Walk will be in front of us. Soon, there will be goopy mud between my toes and grass taller than my body to trot through. Smells upon glorious smells will bombard me as we take the mountain path up to her favorite pond, and once there, she will throw, and I will fetch, and then swim, and sniff, and roll, and play, and sniff, until the stars appear above us and below us, our reflections dancing on the pond's rippling waters. Then, she'll tell me to take her home because I know the way, and I, of course, will because she is my human and I will always keep her safe.

As I ponder our shared, precious future, my human, the love of my life, my whole wide world, squats down and scratches my favorite spot under my collar. I look at her for a long moment, the odd shape of her face, her fur-less body, and press my nose to her mouth, breathing her in. My girl is my most favorite smell out of all my many favorite smells.

"What'd'ya say, Stinker? Let's go for a Walk, yeah?".

I tremble with joy. There, like a song, is the magic word, and I don't think I've ever been happier.