Careful What You Wish For...

Because I live up this mountain and there's really nowhere to walk the boys except on a dangerous, winding narrow road, I toss them in the car every morning and down to civilization we go, to one park or another.  After doing this--on a daily basis for over two years--I have been known to whinge, piss and moan, grumble now and then, and wish I didn't have to make the trek every single damn day.

Max, the toeless wonder, isn't supposed to go on any of our usual walks.  This means I have suddenly found myself feeling slightly...stuck.  It's not helping that Ozzy isn't happy about not getting any walks either.  Since I'm thinking of changing Max's name to Cheech, his opinion doesn't count and probably won't until his meds are gone.

But see, here's the funny thing:  I got my wish.  And it sucks.  Yesterday morning I wandered around the house like a moron.  It seemed so totally weird to be home instead of doing my usual hike around the parks.  So, this morning--a beautiful, Summer-like day--I made an executive decision, loaded the boys in the car and drove down the mountain to the VA complex. 

There's a very cool rose garden area where it's quiet, peaceful, remote, with grass, trees, roses and a sidewalk that circles it all, and it's small, about the size of an average neighborhood backyard.  We were only there about ten minutes, but it was worth it.  Max perked up and even seemed more himself, and it goes without saying that Ozzy was happy to pee on every bush and blade of grass.

So, unless I notice any discomfort or pain from Max, I'm going to continue this little rule-breaking jaunt, not only for myself but for the guys, too.  I'll keep the walks slow, and short; I'm thinking of it like physical therapy.  With a side order of mental health.  And none of those pesky wishes.