A winter walk

It is currently six degrees, windy and grey. Trees are shivering now that they have lost their leaves and even birds look untidy in their coat of ruffled feathers. It is anything but inviting out there. The dog needs a walk regardless.

I put on my walking boots, puffer jacket and scarf and head outside. The moment I turn the corner, the wind assaults me with a slap across my face. An involuntary sound escapes my lips. It is even less pleasant to be out than I imagined.

We walk along a well-worn route, down the footpathed side of the street where I can let the dog off the lead for a short block of freedom. Zoë runs ahead to say hello to the caged cockatoo who calls out to her, ‘Hello, puppy, hello, puppy!’ I reply with, ‘Hello, cocky.’ He rewards me with a bark to let me know that he has recognised the animal to be a dog. I marvel at his intelligence.

Further ahead, I stop for a moment at the corner store. Zoë gets excited at the prospect of a treat. Sure enough, the store manager comes out with a Schmacko. After a couple of high fives, Zoë is rewarded, and her eyes are aglow with devotion for this young man. She is playful and affectionate and jumps up at him. I cringe a little at her lack of manners and my neglect to train her.

We walk through the centre of the village and meet more dogs and people. Some of them are up for a friendly chat, others growl and snap. Our walk is slow as every blade of grass has a story to tell. Zoë reads the doggy news slowly and leaves her own messages at important junctures. Meanwhile, I hop on the spot and rub my hands together to stay warm. We make our way to the dog park, a handkerchief sized plot of land befitting nothing but a Chihuahua. Still, there is fresh news here too and Zoë learns all the local dog gossip as she keeps her ears and nose on the ground. My toes are beginning to protest at the pace of our walk.

Eventually we make our way back home. I can feel my pace quicken as we round the last corner, and I am once again assailed by an Arctic blast from the south. Zoë doesn’t register the cold but even she seems happy to arrive at our gate. Inside, we huddle in front of the heater.

I have a postcard on my desk which I picked up in Germany many years ago. It shows two windows, one looking out and the other looking in. Below are the following words:

There are people who stand in front of windows and longingly look inside believing that life happens there. While those inside stare out at the street believing it occurs there. Günther Kunert

On wintery days like today, I am content to live my life inside and look out.