Going on a walk
Lessons from a cat girl living in a dog's world
Over the past month, I’ve been taking care of my boyfriend’s dog while he’s out of town.1 The point of this story is not so much the dog herself; but, because I know people will ask, her name is Osiris, she’s adorable, and she’s a failed sled dog. What that means is she was born to a family of mushers in Big Lake, a real place that’s just an hour or so north of Anchorage. When her owners tied her to a sled and told her to run, fast and true like her ancestors, she didn’t. So they put her up for adoption, and here we are.
Now that I’m taking care of a dog, everything about dogs is a metaphor. A few nights into my solo dog parenting adventure we (me and Osiris) planned to walk to a neighbor’s house for a dog playdate.2 It was about time, so I took her outside and we went to the end of the driveway like usual. But when I turned in the direction of my friend’s house, a place she’s happily been before, she stopped dead in her tracks: no dice. She hadn’t done that to me before—she’s well-trained and always followed my lead on where we walked. So I tried to pull her, said c’mon, said the name of her dog friend in case it registered. But no—she lay flat as a pancake on the dirty uneven snow, not budging an inch. Maybe this how it went at those fateful Iditarod tryouts, I thought.
When faced with such obstinance, I did what all cat owners would do: I gave up and retreated to the house. She gladly followed and soon we were both back on my couch. I called my friend. Hey, I said, Osiris really didn’t want to walk to you tonight. I guess we should reschedule.
My friend is a seasoned dog owner. When I told her what happened (I tried to get the dog to walk, the dog didn’t want to walk, the dog lay down very convincingly in the street, I gave up and we turned around) my friend more or less scoffed. I’m not sure if you know this or not, she said, but that is entirely predictable dog behavior. Dogs don’t always want to walk, she said. You just have to pull her, she’ll move eventually.
The condescension hung heavy on our call. Although my family had a dog growing up, it’s been a long time since I thought I could have any influence over an animal’s behavior.3 Huh, yeah, maybe you’re right, I said.
Of course we can also just reschedule, she said. I mean, if you really need.
All of a sudden I realized this was a Dog Challenge and I, less than a week into Dog Mothering, boldly accepted.
No! I said. We’ll be there soon!
I ended the call and re-donned my dog-walking apparel. It was a very short journey but at that stage I needed all the essentials: big winter boots, big winter coat, big winter mittens, dog leash, fanny pack with baggies and t-r-e-a-t-s… okay, ready. Like a real dog owner I commanded Osiris to the door and there we were, on the driveway once again. I turned right; she resisted. This time, I kept walking. And by god did I drag that 50-pound dog past many neighbors’ houses until we rounded the corner of my friend’s street and Osiris finally sprang up, engaged. We did it!
Osiris got more excited the closer we got to my friend’s door. She could smell the other dog’s pee everywhere! She knew this place! Once inside, she and the other dog played while me and the other human chatted. It was a lovely time, and Osiris seemed to have fun. Dog Lesson #1 - sometimes they need a little push.
But, like with all things, it’s not always right to force it.
This morning I did something miraculous and got up early to walk Osiris before my physical therapy appointment. My therapist’s office is near a dog park that runs in an oval around a lake. The loop is about one mile; I gave us enough time that we could likely go around the lake twice. What a treat,4 I thought, to give this dog some extra walking time.
It was snowing out, beautiful in the early light,5 and we didn’t see many other walkers. We made it around the loop once and I checked my watch- plenty of time still. Osiris is a sled dog; she’s designed for distance. So I began walking across the field next to the parking lot, chatting into my headphones on a (lovely, overdue) call with a friend. Near the end of the field I turned around, expecting Osiris to be close by.
But she wasn’t. She lingered near the parking lot, greeting a newcomer and its owner. I walked over to them and called her name. She came up to me and gave a big howl (this is typical of sled dogs, I’m learning). The howls often mean “hey, I’m having fun!” Sometimes, particularly after 11 p.m., they mean, “hey, let me out quick, I’m about to have diarrhea!”
This howl wasn’t so clear. Yes, she’d definitely been having fun. But now she was doing the thing where she howled and then pointed her snout toward the car. Huh. I tried walking again in the other direction, back towards the lake. Once again, she didn’t follow. Alright, I said.
I still had thirty minutes to kill before my appointment. But I didn’t need more walking; the extra loop was purely for her.6 If she didn't want to walk anymore, that's okay. Sometimes, we just don't want to walk.
She very willingly got into the car and we sat there as the seats warmed up. I slowly drove down the road to my physical therapy office. Once parked outside I looked back and Osiris was curled into a little cinnamon roll. She looked tired and content. We’ve never actually done more than one loop at that dog park, I realized. I’d always figured it was for lack of time; that I was the one who’d made her get in the car earlier than she would have liked. But she also had never protested. She was always willing to get back into the car.
In this scenario it felt good not to force it. She’s mostly an obedient dog; she’s doing her best. To me, truly a cat owner, the point of all this dog parenting stuff is to give the animal a good life. Doing so enriches my own; it feels good to take care of her. I’m not a dog musher. I don’t need her to work; really, I don’t need her to do much of anything at all. If she doesn’t want to walk, I get it. We’ll try again tomorrow. Dog Lesson #2: cats train their servants incredibly well.
Special Announcement: on Sunday, January 29th, vessels turns 6 months old! Not sure how I plan to celebrate except by continuing to be grateful for what this newsletter (*blog) has brought me. And thanks to some new reader insights, I can say that in the nearly six months of vessels’ existence, it’s been read on six continents! Graphic illustration below… I’m wowed. So, naturally, it would be great if you could forward this post to your friends in Antarctica… seven for seven, baby! Why not. Jokes aside (I'm not joking about Antarctica btw), I know many of my international subscribers came referred from Yrsa Daley-Ward. It’s an insane honor to have Yrsa’s recommendation—she’s brilliant, and I think about her poetic memoir “The Terrible” with some frequency. Please check out her work, including her newsletter the utter, if you haven't already.
That’s all for now! From me to you, out there somewhere on this wild Substack-branded map…
Don’t worry, the resident cat queen Laurie is doing just fine with this arrangement.
My entire social life currently revolves around dogs, and I don’t hate it!
Cats truly are incredible.
Not that kind.
If you fact check when the sun rose today in Anchorage you’ll realize we perhaps have differing definitions of “early.”
Okay fine, maybe it was also to tire her out so she was less interested in terrorizing the cat.
As a servant of mostly cats and then finally a dog, I loved this piece so much! It totally explains why I shrug and turn around when my dog is done at any point in her walk 😂
Really dig the photos you include - they really add to the story!