Walking my dog

Closing the backdoor behind me I grab the dog leash and casually I yell back into the house "I'm taking the dog for a walk!", this statement is received by raised eyebrows and wry smiles. Lets admit it, walking my dog isn't one of my more regular events. The main hindrance being laziness on my behalf. So what exactly prompted the decision to take him out? Well, my dog is starting to age and by dog standards he is quite sheltered. He occasionally gets to explore but I've seen him standing at the edge of our driveway on too many occasions him peering down the road with a look of curiosity on his face. So with that being said, today I've decided to take him out for a walk and let him dictate the route and direction.

I generally take him for walks in the early to late evening, he's reckless, he's inquisitive and he's extremely determined so the less people on the street the better. I exit through the garage with nothing in my possession bar the leash, a torch light and my keys. The sky is splashed with a purple-hue that melts into darkness as the sun retires for another day. Passing through the streets you can't help but pick up on the different cuisines being served for dinner, passing each house you catch a whiff of a difference aroma. Audibly the sound of cars pulling up into driveways and the clamouring of kitchens can be heard in the foreground over a base line of birds chattering. It's a senses wonderland.

Being completely absorbed by my surrounds I haven't really been paying attention to where my dog is taking me. It would appear that I'm being led purely on animal instinct or attention span as my dog guides me through the neighbourhood streets. A smell, a hazy object in the distance even a whim is reason enough to either go straight, left or right. Soon enough we're in a local park, he's curiously sniffing at a bush growing against a rock face. It's quite normal for dogs with their keen sense of smell and astute hearing to be completely captivated by things that humans just can't comprehend. Without warning he viciously begins to stamp at the bush with his front legs closely followed by a soft growl. Curiosity piqued, I shine the torch in the direction of his attention. The light from my torch disappears, there's nothing behind the bush except a small opening, it's a small cavity. A cave.

I push aside the branches to make a small clearing, unexpectedly my dog rushes into the now apparent crevice I get pulled along. It's considerably cooler in the cave, in the distance the sound of dripping water can be heard and it takes my eyes a while to get used to the darker settings. Unrelenting my dog with his nose pinned to the ground continues to pull me in onwards. I pull back on the leash and flash the torch around the face. There's a small tunnel which appears to extend far down. Suddenly the leash snaps free from my dog's collar and he escapes. Within seconds he darts off down the tunnel and disappears into the darkness. Shit, what just happened? Part of me had hoped for an excuse to explore this cave the other part now wanted to be at home.

I make my way down the tunnel, I can hear my dog in the distance panting eagerly. Desperately I call out to him, the only response is patter of his paws and the rattling of his leash. The torch does little to help me, the cave floor is slippery and littered with rocks, I stumble about feeling completely disorientated. My foot makes contact with a loose rock and I tumble face down into a puddle. Great! I pull myself up and continue down the now pitch black tunnel. How does my dog even know where he's going? After what felt like 20 minutes I eventually find my dog sniffing yet another foreign object, reattaching the leash I start to make my way for the exit. My clearly disobedient dog has other ideas wanting to explore more of this new found area. My decision to let the dog dictate the adventure remains fixed in my head. Stupidity on my behalf? Perhaps.

When you're put in a constant environment things begin to become monotonous to the extent you just can't wait until it's over. Your mind begins to play tricks on you, you think you see light, you think you hear sounds. Hope and expectation can be driving forces that have no substance. Most of all you start to question your decisions which got you into this situation. The fixture of time in a constant environment also warps your perceptions, it merely becomes a metric of concern.

I've lost track of how long we've been walking in this tunnel. It feels like it's only been 10 minutes but when I check the time it's been hours. Doubt creeps in yet I still have faith in my dog. His stride isn't as consistent or purposeful as it used to be and there are times he'll stop momentarily and look back at me for encouragement. Confidently he marches on.

How much battery does my torch have left? The last thing I want to be is stuck in the middle of a tunnel with no light. A plethora of feelings and emotions are rushing through my head: concern, hope, excitement, regret, anxiety and stupidity. When you cast aside all these feelings it really boils down to two options. Continue down the dark tunnel hoping to find light at the end or turn around and go back the way I came.

My dog wants to keep going...