Dog Lady

I am the dog lady. I swear that is how the people in my neighborhood see me. If I walk without Boone, someone invariably stops me and says, “Where is your dog?”

Have I become that eccentric lady, the one who dons sweatshirt or tank top first thing in the morning and walks out the door, tennis balls in pocket and leash in hand, without so much as showering or running a brush through her hair?

I am the one who runs with dogs, delighting in their comforting companionship.

My daily life revolves around my dog. He gives me a reason to wake in the morning and another to come home at the end of the day. Without Boone, I would have no compelling reason to walk away from my computer, my work, my reading, my projects.

I would never climb the levee walls; see the sunrise; or intentionally walk in wind, rain, and excessive heat. I might never know the sauna effect of a Louisiana summer night. Without Boone, I would almost never sit beside the LSU lakes or the Lab school pond, just sit. I would never run, or chase, or throw, or roll around on the ground. I would rarely take a country drive, and if I did, there would be no reason to stop, get out of the car, walk around, explore.

I am the dog lady, the one who gratefully runs with dogs.