For those of you who don’t know,
when Mama was sick,
it was my job to take her for walks.
It was not an easy job.
She was tired all the time.
Some days…
she could barely make it down the steps.
So I came up with a plan.
I convinced her that I could not go #2
unless she took me for a walk.
Mama was not using her best brain at the time.
But the plan worked.
And apparently, I am still in charge of walking her.
The problem is,
Mama now wants to take long walks.
We used to walk to the mailbox.
It was a perfectly good arrangement.
We walked down the road.
We checked the neighborhood.
We investigated any suspicious smells.
We collected the mail.
Then we came home.
Job completed.
Paperwork filed.
But now Mama says we are going to walk—
THREE MILES.
She says we are getting older and need to stay in shape.
She says we need to build our endurance.
She says we need to burn calories.
I think Mama is projecting.
I am a sleek and shiny 27 pounds.
It looks very good on me.
Also, I am not old.
I am only four.
That is 28 in people years,
which puts me squarely in the prime of my life.
Mama is considerably farther along.
Still, she is determined.
We have not actually walked three miles yet.
We are “working up to it.”
This means that every time we go for a walk,
Mama sneaks a little more road into it.
Today we walked 2.5 miles.
I believe 2.5 miles should be the legal limit
for a 27-pound dog.
Even a Wonder Dog.
During these walks, Mama talks.
She likes to tell me about when she was a runner.
She says she ran 5Ks.
And 10Ks.
And half marathons.
Whatever those are.
Not to be disrespectful, but…
I have my doubts.
Have you ever seen my Mama?
She has only two short, stubby legs.
Who could run any distance on those?
And I hate to say it, but her coordination is sketchy.
Very sketchy.
Sometimes I am walking politely beside her,
like a very good dog does,
and she gets her feet twisted up
and bumps into me.
Running with twisty feet
on two short legs
sounds more like imagination
than history.
But we keep walking.
There is a little farm out on the main road,
and it is the best part of the whole trip.
They have animals I recognize.
Goats.
Sheep.
Donkeys.
And one very loud, very opinionated dog.
I keep an eye on all of them.
Not because I am nosy.
Because someone has to know
what is happening in the neighborhood.
But today, something was different.
There were several animals wandering around in the grass
that i had never seen before.
They were short and stout,
with round bodies,
four stubby legs
and faces that looked a little bit like bears.
But not exactly.
They were eating grass
and minding their own business
as though they belonged there.
Mama called them “catchybears.”
I swear that is what she said.
Catchy.
Bears.
I studied them carefully.
What do they catch?
Are they bears who catch things?
Or are they something that catches bears?
And if they catch bears,
why are they standing in a pasture eating grass?
Perhaps “catchybear” is their occupation.
Maybe they are waiting for a bear to wander by.
Or maybe they have already caught all the bears,
which would explain why there weren’t any.
There was a lot to consider.
I would have liked to stay longer
and continue my investigation,
but Mama said we had to keep moving.
Something about maintaining our pace.
So I left the catchybears behind
and continued walking my short-legged,
poorly coordinated human down the road.
Because walking Mama may be my official job.
But monitoring unusual neighborhood animals
is also important work.
Especially when nobody can explain
what a catchybear catches.
Oh. My. Dog.
I am still a very good girl.
-Sassy 🐾
Third Act With Pattie 