This Is Where We Ran (Fiction)

This is where we walk. I turn the corner, following the route that we always take. Leash in hand, I walk steadily along the right sidewalk of the hilly, bay area suburban neighborhood.

The road dipped, causing her to push forward at a quicker pace, making the leash taut as I was pulled behind her. She wasn’t a big dog, but her persistence and momentum made it difficult for me to control her pace. I would have told her to slow down, but I could tell that she was so happy, and so I continued on this awkward, downhill pace.

She panted quietly, one breath for every other step that she took. Her eyes were alert, and her ears stood up straight to follow the many sounds of the neighborhood. It was fairly quiet, with only a light wind and the rustling of leaves filling my ears. I could tell that her ears were picking up so much more. She quickened her pace even more, forcing me finally to utter “stay by me” to keep myself from falling forward. She acknowledged the command, and came back to walk by my side. She wanted to run, but that happens later, at the end of the walk.

A car came whizzing by, way too fast for the residential road we were walking on. Luckily, she knew not to go into the road without my permission. She was a smart girl, and that was one of the first things I taught her, along with doing her business outside instead of on my carpet. We stopped on a corner. “Time to cross.” She sat on cue, and waited for me to tell her it was time to keep going. “Ok, let’s go.” She walked calmly beside me as we crossed the street. “Good girl!”

We got to the other side, and she started to slow down. Her short, stubby legs made this one-mile walk a veritable marathon, so I picked her up and continued on my way. She was panting a bit heavier now, but still had enough energy to lick all over my face as we walked. I pet her behind her ears, and she closed her eyes in satisfaction. She wriggled a bit as a way to communicate that she was ready to walk again, and I let her back down.

I turn the final corner, where the road begins a steep incline. This is where we ran. We ran all the way from the bottom of the hill, to the top where our apartment complex awaited with water, treats, and toys. Before running, she’d stop and look at me, tilting her head sideways. She knew this is where we ran. “Ok baby girl, want to run?” Without another word, we’d take off side by side, flying up the hill. We’d reach the top, and walk quickly to the front door. “Good job, baby! Good girl!” She’d look toward me with gratitude, panting heavily, alive with the most pure happiness a puppy could have.

I make it halfway up the hill, then collapse, leash still it hand. The tears are becoming unbearable now, and I clutch the empty leash tightly as I face the ground where she ran without a care in the world. This is where we ran. This is where we used to run.