Every month my wrist-spy* suggests a fitness challenge and I usually try it just to add a little extra oomph to my routines.
I have only been following it closely for a few months but since it has led to me moving a lot more each day (and feeling great about it!) I figure it’s worth the effort to pay attention to the challenges and to my responses.
This month, the challenge is to walk 5.4km per day for 14 days during September.
And since I am much better at doing something every day than every second day, I decided that I would aim for 14 days in a row and if I liked walking that much per day, I would continue for the rest of the month.
So far, I have met the challenge every day but some days have been quite tricky.
I get a lot of movement in my days but it’s a mix of walking and yoga and stretching and taekwondo and strength training and so on.
This challenge is just about walking. So walking around my house or running errands will count toward the 5.4km but other forms of exercise won’t.
(That other movement is good for me overall, of course, but it doesn’t meet the requirements of the challenge.)
I’ve tried getting Khalee to walk a bit further each day so I can get closer to the target distance but sometimes she just won’t. In fact, on Friday evening we walked for less than 1km because she decided she was done with being outdoors and it was time to get home out of it.
I’ve thought about trying to take her out for a walk twice a day but any time I’ve tried, she’s not so keen on it. (I swear, she looks like she is thinking, ‘Didn’t we do this already?’)
So, I’ve ended up walking a fair distance INSIDE my house just to meet the challenge. Indoor walking is boring AND I walk slower than I do outside – apparently I really need the forward movement to gain any momentum.
Ok, so I know what you’re thinking – Why don’t you walk WITHOUT the dog, Christine?
And the answer is – I never thought of it.
Most of the time, I walk for three reasons – to walk the dog, to hang out with friends, or to get somewhere.
And all of those walks are good for me but I had kind of filed away the fact that I could walk for the sake of walking/exercise.
I mean, I guess I *do* still do that but I generally combine it with Khalee’s daily walk so I had stopped thinking of it as something I could do separately.
Until I was running an errand on Monday morning and I saw someone strolling along the sidewalk without the benefit of a dog to show them where all the good smells are and it struck me, “OHHHH! I could do my extra walking OUTSIDE instead.”
Yes, I feel a bit foolish about missing the obvious there but you know how it is when you get into a thinking habit, right? You need something to prompt you to reframe your thoughts.
ANYWAY, right after lunch on Monday, I took a quick stroll – it was a lot easier to get out the door without having to get Khalee into her harness and all. It was good to get a little extra walking in, at my own speed, without worrying if Herself was going to get enough exercise or if I was going too fast or too slow for her in the moment.
I love walking with Khalee but walking a dog is a whole different project than walking alone. It’s a different kind of good.
I mean, I had to rely on my own nose to figure out where the good smells were but that was a small price to pay for a quick walk.
Meanwhile, I think Khalee was suspicious and I am pretty sure she gave me a dirty look when I returned.
For the record, I did take her for her own walk a bit later in the day.
And it was quite easy to get my walking distance done.
*You may know it as an Apple watch but thanks to a clever friend it will always be a wrist-spy to me.
I have rheumatoid arthritis. It’s an insidious, often agonizing, auto-immune disease that attacks your body’s joints and can make even simple movements like walking a deeply painful trial. Having RA means I have a disability.
Today, I see myself as part of the disability community. But for a long time, because RA isn’t necessarily visible to the casual observer, because those with the disease aren’t necessarily in a wheelchair or using a walker at all times, I wasn’t sure I belonged.
As a long-time professional working in the area of equity, inclusion and human rights, disability had always been a part of the dialogues that I was having, although it was a subject too often ignored in the EDI industrial complex. But because my own disability was often “invisible,” it took me some time and patient education from disability rights activists to understand that, yes, I am a part of that community.
Through my university years, I didn’t think too deeply about “keeping fit.” I walked or cycled everywhere while at McGill and Cambridge, and had occasional bouts of swimming lengths or taking aerobics classes.
Moving back to Canada, I kept up with walking and for nigh on 30 years, that has remained my primary form of exercise. I walked really fast all the time. People would comment on it at the campus in southern California where I worked for 16 years – I think because many people there didn’t use their body as their main form of locomotion.
Then I developed RA. The diagnosis came after the joints in my hands seized up, although that turned out to be just the canary in the coalmine. It was my feet that began to degenerate first. I kept up with my rapid pace in spite of increasing pain until my hallux (big toes) were so bent as to make it hard to get shoes to fit. I went for a double bunionectomy (never one to do things by halves) and after a six-month period of frustrating recovery, I could suddenly walk at my old pace.
But after a few years, the hallux on my right foot became so painful I was basically walking on the side of my foot. This exacerbated other RA symptoms – notably degenerative disc disease, particularly in the sacroiliac joints. So, I had the toe fused and went through another period of recovery – during which, I discovered later, I actually broke the toe, which lengthened the healing time.
Walking became easier once again, even as I worked through other RA-related issues necessitating a hysterectomy, as well as a move to infusions of biologic medications and an additional diagnosis of fibromyalgia (common with RA). In a six-month period in 2017 and 2018, I lived through two dramatic episodes – a bleeding ulcer resulting in the lowest hemoglobin levels the hospital had seen in someone still alive, followed by (and caused by the ulcers) peritonitis and emergency abdominal surgery.
Initially it became a victory just to be upright again, then I began to creep along the ward with my IV pole and the pump attached to a naso-gastric tube. I eventually progressed to a walker, and finally I was able to inch along unaided.
Over the years, I have become used to the comments: “But you look so good” or “You still seem to get around” etc. But when I was using an apparatus – a kneeling walker, walker or wheelchair – the difference was palpable. Then I could be treated as someone with a deficit – and that was how so many people automatically treat those with obvious disabilities. The old medical model versus social model of disability brought to life.
But having my disabilities made visible also made me realize that I had, in fact, been living with disabilities since I was a child. Decades ago, though, there was little discussion about “invisible,” “unseen” disabilities.
A single incident in high school made this very clear to me. I was diagnosed with migraines when I was 10. I discovered early on that I could usually cope when one came on by focusing intently until whatever needed doing was done and then I could collapse in a dark room. I started to develop migraine with aura which was frightening but gave the opportunity to take medication. One day in high school, I ignored the aura and, par for the course, the migraine developed 30 minutes later. Teachers and friends couldn’t understand why I needed to get home – “it’s just a headache,” “I get headaches all the time.” I was in no state to try and explain pain so severe that even when lying down, moving an eyelash felt like a knife going through my brain.
Thanks to my work in EDI, I was fortunate to be able to deepen my understanding about the disability movement from a superstar, Dr. Victoria Lewis. Vicki, a post-polio survivor, is a pioneer in theatre and disability, working since the 1980s in a variety of theatrical models—grassroots, community-based, regional not-for-profit, and television and film. Her developmental work reshaped the depiction of disability on the stage and nurtured a generation of disabled playwrights and actors, now at work throughout the US.
We spent hours discussing issues of disability, finagling ways to get disability into various parts of curriculum and into students’ minds. Vicki made sure I knew the ancestors who fought for rights and for space in the conversation. Those activist pioneers who rejected in the strongest terms the tropes and cliches about disability as a tragic experience or, perhaps worse, as the basis for “inspiration porn.”
“Disability only becomes a tragedy for me when society fails to provide the things we need to lead our lives––job opportunities or barrier-free buildings, for example.” said Judy Heumann. “It is not a tragedy to me that I’m living in a wheelchair.”
Australian comedian Stella Young puts it even more bluntly in one of her shows.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you dramatically,” she said. “I am not here to inspire you. I am here to tell you that we have been lied to about disability. Yeah, we’ve been sold the lie that disability is a Bad Thing, capital B, capital T. It’s a bad thing, and to live with a disability makes you exceptional. It’s not a bad thing, and it doesn’t make you exceptional… And in the past few years, we’ve been able to propagate this lie even further via social media. You may have seen [slogans] like this one: ‘The only disability in life is a bad attitude.’ Or this one: ‘Your excuse is invalid.’ Indeed. Or this one: ‘Before you quit, try!’ These are just a couple of examples, but there are a lot of these images out there. You know, you might have seen the one, the little girl with no hands drawing a picture with a pencil held in her mouth. You might have seen a child running on carbon-fiber prosthetic legs. And these images, there are lots of them out there, they are what we call inspiration porn. And I use the term porn deliberately, because they objectify one group of people for the benefit of another group of people. So in this case, we’re objectifying disabled people for the benefit of non-disabled people. The purpose of these images is to inspire you, to motivate you, so that we can look at them and think, ‘Well, however bad my life is, it could be worse. I could be that person.'”
As I was becoming a more and more passionate advocate for disability issues, I was slowly accepting myself as a member of this broad and diverse community, a member with a number of privileges, but a member nonetheless. In moving to that understanding, I had to accept that I was never going to be whole again. Living my daily life was always going to be that much more difficult. Pain would be a constant nagging companion.
But I also learned that pain and disability did not mean having to shut myself off from simple pleasures, pleasures of the body as well as the mind. And I found that my mind and my body, even with the latter’s limitations, could work together.
In 2021, I got a dog. There were many reasons for this but the fact that it would force me to get out and walk was certainly one of them. Atlas, a 2.5-year-old Siberian Husky rescue, came into my life, and walking took on a sudden, and very insistent, urgency. Atlas is only happy when he walks at least 10km a day and has little patience for dilly-dallying (except on his part when investigating blades of grass, dog poo, fleeing creatures, etc.). Suddenly, I was a real walker – out on the Canal Trail every morning around 6am! Pain be damned!
I also discovered that this regularly scheduled walking gave me 90 minutes (on weekdays) and nearly three hours (on weekends) to think. To think about all sort of topics particularly as dawn breaks and the sun rises. I came across a New Yorker piece entitled “Why Walking Makes Us Think” and realized I was not alone in indulging in this wondrous pastime and there were physiological reasons behind it:
What is it about walking, in particular, that makes it so amenable to thinking and writing? The answer begins with changes to our chemistry. When we go for a walk, the heart pumps faster, circulating more blood and oxygen not just to the muscles but to all the organs—including the brain. Many experiments have shown that after or during exercise, even very mild exertion, people perform better on tests of memory and attention. Walking on a regular basis also promotes new connections between brain cells, staves off the usual withering of brain tissue that comes with age, increases the volume of the hippocampus (a brain region crucial for memory), and elevates levels of molecules that both stimulate the growth of new neurons and transmit messages between them.
I have found that my walking thinking has become more profound since the onset of another RA-related symptom, tinnitus. While people often describe a ringing in the ears, mine is a more unclassifiable buzzing. When it first became pronounced, I had a similar feeling to the claustrophobia I experience in confined spaces – what would it mean to never again experience silence? To avoid dealing with that, I started listening to the radio as I walked (yay for CBC) and their discussions would lead me down pathways of thought that took me away from my own concerns.
I “write” pieces as I walk (some of this was done that way), wishing I had the power to get messages out about the opportunities to work with Mother Earth if only we would heed advice. This is almost a meditative practice – “almost” because I have to remain alert to cyclists, other dogs and their owners, and animals Atlas will regard as prey. But that has become part of the meditation over this past two years.
Then, about two months ago, I realized I was finding it harder to block out the pain in my feet, heels and ankles. Objectively, this isn’t surprising – I have RA, most of my toes would now be called “hammer toes” and the hallux are both tilted away from the straight. To alleviate the pain, I was walking in that strange manner that exacerbates the pain in my sacroiliac joint, hips and knees.
Action was called for – a visit to the podiatrist followed a regular visit to my rheumatologist. And this down-to-earth woman gave me hope. She intuitively understood that the goal was to keep moving, preferably walking long distances. She was blunt in her assessment that my right foot with its fused hallux, other toes with tendons cut and arthritis-riddled ankle didn’t give a lot of scope but there was more hope for the left. She said,“Get shoes that address these issues and we can work to modify them, constantly wear whatever device works to keep the hallux toes away from the next toe, no more sandals without backs, and do these exercises daily.” She didn’t pretend there would be any return to my younger days with fully functional feet but she was clear there would be a future for walking within certain limitations.
I left the office feeling seen, heard and believed. I sat down and wrote this because I rarely feel hopeful and that day I did. And then the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, when Atlas jumped on the bed to remind me it was time for his walk, that hope has persisted.
Leela MadhavaRau is the owner of LMR Human Rights and Equity Consulting. She has spent her working life in the field of equity and inclusion, working at universities in both Canada and the United States. Her academic background is in Social Anthropology, with a specific focus on the transmission of culture across time and space. Her degrees are from McGill and the University of Cambridge. She has lived a life between cultures and countries, one of the few multiracial children born in 1960’s London (UK). Leela immigrated with her family to Canada in the 1970’s when “Where are you from” was one of the most common questions. Her career has been one of working to create dialogue; wanting all of us to be able to maintain curiosity and be independent thinkers. This responsibility has been inculcated in her four children, now ages 23 through 30. She adopted her Siberian Husky, Atlas, in May 2021 and her life hasn’t been the same since!
All of us at FIFI are grateful to Samantha and Tracy for starting the blog in 2012, inviting us to join as writers and readers, and keeping it going strong in the midst of whirlwinds of change over the past decade plus some. In honor of her birthday, and in no particular order, are 59 great things about Samantha, who turns 59 today.
1–4: Samantha’s in-house menagerie of various creatures:
5–8: a rotating roster of cats, past and present, including the venerable Zippy, who lived to the ripe old age of 18, Boo, her son Gavin’s cat, who lodges with them from time to time, and her daughter Mallory’s cats Louie and Moon, who visit on occasion.
9–16: Sam’s well-looked after family of Mallory, Gavin, Miles, Kathleen, Sarah, Jeff, Susan, and others I’m forgetting. Not to mention her many friends, students, colleagues, and neighbors (which I’m counting as one for these purposes).
I don’t think I got everyone in this montage, but that’s just because Samantha’s family and friends cannot be contained by mere digital means.
17–26: Sam’s written a lot of very popular blog posts over the years. Here are ten of them:
The fact that Sam wrote in both 2013 and 2021 about finding clothes to fit athletic women’s bodies shows a real need for this blog. And by the way, it’s not fixed yet. But don’t worry, Sam and the rest of us are on it.
27–31: Samantha has been writing about real women’s bodies (in contrast to Barbie bodies) for a decade before the movie came out. Here are five of her posts:
38–40: Sam continues to embrace the gear! 1.667 boats
1/3 of a big sailboat
1/3 of a small sailboat
3/3 of a canoe
41: Sam doesn’t embrace single car ownership, but shares one with her mum.
42: Say what you will, but I think Sam and I looked pretty similar in high school.
43: I think we still look like we could be cousins (which we certainly are in a psychic sense, or something)
44: Samantha loves books! She buys books, reads them, talks and writes about them in our FIFI book club (and elsewhere), and gives books to people. Hey Sam– what should our next FIFI book club be about? Something to think about.
45: Sam’s To Listen, Read and Watch posts. They are a relaxing and often informative time-out from work emails or more serious reading. Wanna catch up on some of them? Look here.
46: No matter what sort of snafu or whoopsie-thing happens with the blog (and yes, below our sleek, professional exterior, we are fallible like everyone else…:-) Samantha manages to a) fix it; or b) compensate for it; and c) not sweat about it. Thanks, Sam!
47–59: For each year of this blog– 2012–2023 and on, Samantha and Tracy deserve praise (Tracy’s birthday is coming up soon, too, so stay tuned…)
Happy 59th, Samantha, from me, the bloggers, the readers, and Robert Anderson (who took this photo on Unsplash).
I walk Khalee every day. Sometimes we take long walks and sometimes it is just a quick jaunt around the neighbourhood.
Sometimes, I want to take a longer walk and she votes no, turning toward home at every opportunity.
All of these walks feel good for my brain and for my body but they don’t exactly feel like exercise.
Khalee, you see, has two speeds 1) sedate amble (to maximize sniffing possibilities) and 2) all-out gallop (to maximize speed for her and danger for me. I think the danger thing is an accidental side-effect or at least I hope it is.)
The sedate amble, with lots of pauses to do a complete sniffvestigation, is her usual speed but she might break out the all-out gallop if the path is especially snowy or if she sees that my husband has arrived home while we were out.
I enjoy the amble but I find myself wishing I could speed up a bit (without going all-out gallop) and get a bit of a workout in but I don’t want to make her rush. She is, after all, a dog, and sniffing is how she explores the world. And, of course, these walks are supposed to be about her, not about me.
On top of my wish to get in a little exercise while I am already moving, I find that, despite my desire to let her amble along and despite my attempts to be mindful about my walk, my ADHD brain sometimes starts grumbling about being borrrrrrrrred.
During one of our walks last week, my brain got especially whiny and I decided it was time to take things up a notch.
I didn’t want to speed up and risk putting Khalee into turbo mode (and myself in peril since her four legs give her way better balance at all-out speed) so I decided to make my slow walk a bit harder, really using the muscles in my legs to pull myself forward with every step instead of just strolling along.
(The nature of my efforts made me think of an 80s or 90s aerobics instructor saying ‘Create resistance. Imagine you are moving through mud.’ so I also managed to make myself laugh a bit in the process.)
At another point in the walk, I tried moving my arms a bit more deliberately. And I also changed our route a little so I had two hills to climb instead of just one.
As a result of these tweaks, my brain stopped whining about being bored AND I felt like I had gotten just a bit more exercise into my day. And that was on top of the generally good feeling I get from knowing that I am taking good care of Khalee and myself by being outdoors for a walk, whether it feels like exercise or not.
Now, I’m not saying that I am going to do this on every walk but on those days when I am feeling a little restless, when our walk feels slower than usual, or when my schedule is so tight that our walk might be my only chance to exercise, I will definitely find ways to work harder without making Khalee rush through her sniffvestigations.
After all, I wouldn’t want her to miss any details. They could be crucial when her case gets to court. 😉
Mount Pearl, Newfoundland and Labrador, November 21, 2022.
The weather is chilly (1 degree Celsius, 33.8 degrees Fahrenheit), there’s a wind warning in effect (80kmh with gusts to 95, 49.71mph with gusts to 59mph)
My house is noisy from the wind but it’s warm and cozy.
I’m a bit off track because several of my usual Monday things got changed and because I spent a good part of the day in waiting mode.
Why waiting mode? Tomorrow is my youngest son’s birthday and his present was due to arrive sometime today. Our address is often mixed up with a similar address nearby so I was on alert in case it was delivered to the wrong place.
Waiting mode is one of those situations where a neurotypical person (at least one who wasn’t anxious) would probably be able to put thoughts of the possible mix-up aside and carry on with their plans for the day. And if I had a strict schedule today, my neurodivergent brain *might* be able to do the same.
Alas, my schedule today was flexible. So between that flexibility, the loss of my usual Monday anchors, waiting mode, and the windy weather, I spent my day puttering from task to task.
And then, once the package arrived (yay!), I wanted to settle into my work.
That’s when this process started:
Khalee would need to go for a walk later so my brain was telling me that I probably wouldn’t want to dive too deeply into whatever I was doing right now.
So, maybe we should walk now. After all, the weather isn’t going to improve until tomorrow – and at least it is still light out.
But if I walk now, I might not be able to switch into work mode when I return.
So maybe I should skip the walk, right? After all, the wind warning clearly states that outdoor objects should be tied down. It could be *dangerous* out there, couldn’t it? Stuff could be flying around.
Hell, Khalee and I could blow away, couldn’t we?
Yeah, it’s often like this inside my head – it’s not all that fun.
But then, luckily, I saw a post on Instagram from someone local who was out for a walk, wearing their mask because it was the only way to keep warm – and probably the only way to catch their breath.
That’s when I remembered that I have fleece lined pants to wear over my jeans. And I have a warm coat and my hatphones. And a scarf my sister made. And I could wear my favourite mask.
So, I bundled up, got Khalee into her harness (today was apparently NOT a day for a dog to wear a sweater – I have to give the pup some autonomy, don’t I?) and headed out.
And, like most things – it was far worse to think about than it was to do.
It was stupid windy out. It was quite cold.
But it was manageable. And it wasn’t totally awful.
And Khalee and I were both so very good for dragging ourselves outside even though 50% of us were not keen on it.
I mean Khalee is automatically good, obviously, what with being a dog and all, but she bravely forged ahead into the wind until I called out to her so I could take a photo.
So yeah, she’s super-good but I’m pretty damn good too – overcoming so much resistance even though it would have been much easier (and quite understandable) if I had decided to stay home.
(And, I’m sorry to report, that I did indeed feel better after being outside and zipping through my walk. It was worth getting out for Khalee’s sake but, damn it, it was apparently also worth it for my own sake, too.)
Anyway, long story short (too late!), Khalee and I both get gold stars for our windy walk.
How about you?
How have you triumphed over resistance lately?
Was it worth it?
Would you like a gold star? Khalee and I will share!
PS: Happy Birthday to my youngest son, J, who is my baby but is not, apparently, actually a baby at all any more. In fact, he’s a newly-minted adult.
And, yes, there is truly a month or a week or at least a day for everything. Maybe that fact makes you a bit meh about all of these sorts of declarations (and that’s fair!) but I kind of like the idea of finding something to celebrate on any given day.
Maybe I am not going all in for National Garlic Day today, I haven’t planned any celebrations for Coin Week this week, and I don’t even think I have the required millinery to celebrate Straw Hat Month but I *am* strongly pro-fun so I vote yes on anything that brings a little levity to your day-to-day.
ANYWAY, back to the celebration at hand.
Apparently Active Dog Month was started by Natasha at Om Shanti Pups but I didn’t delve too far into the history of this auspicious month, so I can’t be sure of its origins. However, I do know that she has some good posts on keeping your dog active so check those out for some ideas.
There’s a fair amount of dog talk here on the Fit is a Feminist Issue blog (a while ago, Sam compiled some of them into a post here) so I thought it would be fun to get a few of our bloggers to chime in about dogs and exercise.
I no longer own a dog. I like being able to travel and not worry about boarding. When I had a dog, I always resented having to take him out for long walks when I was trying to get ready for work, or it was time for bed. But I love dogs, and enjoy a moment of interaction as many as possible while out walking, even if it is just a quick whispered “who’s a good pup?” as we walk in opposite directions.
I do not have a dog, but I walk/hike semi-regularly with two friends’ dogs, Ellie and Ricky. I notice a heightened, vicarious enthusiasm for walking while with a dog. With a dog, the walk seems more interesting, perhaps because humans and dogs find different things interesting while walking. There is a sense of companionship and satisfaction when walking with a dog that even some non-dog owners notice. Is there a difference between dog walking and walking while with a dog? Dog owners probably know.
Cheddar is around the blog a lot. The blog turns 10 this summer and Cheddar is 7 so there’s a lot of overlap! These days Cheddar is the reason I’m out walking at all. While waiting for total knee replacement, both knees, I’m not a fan of walking even though it’s good for me. It hurts. But Cheddar gets me out there three or four times a week. He’s lucky that I’m not the only person who walks him. I’m lucky he’s excellent at adjusting his pace to the person walking him. He’s also a most excellent yoga dog, though unlike Adriene’s Benji he’s not good at staying off the mat so he gets his own.
Walking Lucy has become my partner and my touch point time before work, on our lunch break ,and after dinner during the week. Our youngest kid is 20 and regularly takes Lucy out solo but also subs in for one of us if cooking, work or other exercise needs my time.
Since the walks have to happen I’m out way more consistently and for longer than I’ve ever been before.
Back to Christine:
Whether we are walking our dogs or they are walking us, at least everyone has the chance to get some movement into their days.
I am intrigued by Elan’s comment about companionship and about the difference between walking a dog and walking with a dog. When my kids were small, I used to love going for a walk and pushing the stroller – more often than not I would be yammering away to them and they would be asleep! And as much as I enjoy walking on my own, I had missed the feeling of pushing the stroller.
I thought that I was missing the extra effort that the stroller required, that my brain needed the extra work to calmly stay on task instead of filling up with other ideas about what I should be doing. (ADHD brains have a knack for that kind of thing.)
I don’t think that I really considered it before now but I think that walking Khalee gives me a lot of the same feeling that walking with the stroller did. There’s a larger purpose to my walk and I have company (which, as many people with ADHD will attest, makes almost any task more doable.)
So, now that I think about it, I definitely know the difference between walking a dog and walking with a dog, and I am doing the latter.
I’m not walking Khalee, we are walking together. I do most of the talking and she does most of the sniffing – everyone working to their strengths, you know?
And maybe her blog posts are all about hoping that I am getting enough exercise this month.
She started out subtly 😉 glancing back from the door
But when I stood up, she began to implore…
“Come on, Christine, it’s time for a walk.”
Well, I imagined her saying it, if she could talk.
In a few minutes of walking, with deep breaths of fresh air.
I began to feel better, my brain started to clear,
Now, Khalee’s to-do list was short, and she sure took her time,
Sniffing and scouting to see what she could find.
As she ambled along following all her dog plans,
I came to realize I was in good doggy hands.*
By getting me outside, making me breathe the fresh air,
Khalee had banished brain clutter and helped make my thoughts clear.
As we headed to the bridge on the way back to our home,
I shaped my blog thoughts into this Pete-ish poem**
And then I filled it with photos of good Khalee pup,
to divert your attention from where I messed up.
So, my dear friends, if you are scattered, if your brain’s filled with bees,
Please take Khalee’s advice and walk to find ease.
You don’t need to move quickly, an amble will do,
It really helped me, may the same go for you.
*Er, paws are kind of hands, right?
**Pete is my Dad. Back in the day, he wrote this kind of light-hearted foolishness for birthday cards and office Christmas parties. I learned poetry-writing from an engineer, that should explain a few things.