Just about every evening now when Hud gets home from work, we take Zali and Simone on a little run around Hein Park. It's a charming little neighborhood in the middle of the city and across the street from Schyterbolle. The majority of homes were built in the early twenties right after they moved Rhodes College to its current location on the backside of the subdivision. The homes are each unique and interesting.
And plenty of Tudors like our home...
But we hardly get to see them. It's all a blur of green and black and blurry white swishes.
The person who draws the Simone straw is bound to be near a heart attack by the time she's finished with them.
Last night, it was Hud. This is mostly what Zali and I saw.
Walking Zali is a series of stops and starts. He's got to pee on every single lawn bag, postal box and ornamental shrub along the way. It's a law all male dogs must abide by no matter what their size.
He also loves to poop on Hein Park. He leaves Mrs. Brown and one of her kids on Cypress and the other gets dropped off at 666 East Drive. It's their regular stops. But in between his delivery duties, we run. Or casually trot. Walk really fast? Okay amble. We amble.
But the whole ordeal starts off with a cacaphony of noise and nervous tension. Simone is excitable. Very excitable. I've taught her to jump in my lap and patiently calmly wiggle like a damn fool while I hitch up her bra.
Eventually, I wrangle her into submission.
By the time we get to the front door, the intensity of her squealing has reached glass breaking volumes. The pitch can be likened to a supersonic squeaking of air being released from a giant ballon. Our neighbor, Steve was leaving his house for a run as we passed in front of his house. As he galloped past he said, "I thought a dog had been hit by a car!" No, I replied, "Simone is just happy to be going on her run," as Zali and I stopped so he could relieve himself on the fire hydrant, oak tree and the fence of some barking dogs.
Oh, for the love of dog.