March arrived with strong winds that knocked down trees, took out power lines, and closed schools, roads, and workplaces.
My two walking buddies begged off.
The police department posted a warning to stay in.
As those of you who have been following this blog know, I have to get out. Every day.
But, I’m an adult. Responsible. Not someone who takes foolish risks. I needed a good excuse.
Pettigrew came through.
It was morning. Of course, he needed his walk.
We ran the first few blocks; wind pushing us. Pettigrew embraced the gusts. Running. Cavorting. Dragging me back to the corner to show that he wasn’t ready to turn toward home. As my son noted, “He’s a dog with spirit.”
We made wide detours to skirt downed wires. Dragged fallen branches off the sidewalks. Relished the clean-swept skies and, happily, saw no serious damage on the routes we travelled.
Later talking to one of my walking buddies I agreed, yes, it was windy. Yes, it was cold. I totally understand why you’d rather stay in, but, for Pettigrew and me, it was exhilarating. Necessary.
Yet another way we are two peas in a pod.
When I was a preteen my parents sent me out on the water with a sailing instructor. Somehow we hadn’t heard the forecast and neglected to notice the darkening sky until we were far from land. I loved every minute of that race toward the shore as the rain began to pound.
When we docked, the instructor shared the highest praise: “she’s got grit,” he told my parents.
So, on a day when Dorothy and Toto could easily have been blown to the Land of Oz, Pettigrew and I were out riding the wind.