basset, party of one

Yesterday's beach jaunt proved to be too much for Molly's bad knee, the one which tells her when it's going to rain, and that she uses as an excuse to pee in the house just 4" from the dog door. She's been gimping around the house, poor thing, so we've been medicating her with love and baby aspirins.

Toula, however, is raring to go, so to prevent the typical 8pm energy burst, D. and I concocted and executed a Brilliant Plan to get Toula out for a walk with Molly none the wiser.

D. went to his office, Molly followed. I went to our bedroom, Toula followed. This typical behavior allowed us to close Molly in to the office, and Toula and I slipped out the front door. Seconds later, Molly was snoring loudly and Toula and I were free! Free, I tell you!

Walking this brown dog today reminded me what a joy it is to own a dog. Walks with Molly on the lead are usually more like "Grunt/Drags". Alone with Toula it was an actual Dog-Whisperer- style walk, with occasional stops for sniffing, but 98% an actual walk. She walks proudly, prancing with her tail and ears at alert. We took a long tour through the wooded trails and met other dogs which Toula politely greeted. Had Molly been with us, meeting another dog would have been a cartoonish yank, ending up with me off my feet, being dragged down the trail, dirt collecting down the front of my shirt and hitting every stone with my chin.

I took this shot of Toula on the walk with my Treo phone. Do you see how the angelic nature of Toula's behavior is memorialized by the corona in the background? Do you hear the Basset Angels singing? Hallelooo-arooooh! *sigh*

Of course, D. would totally disagree with me, thinking that Molly is the more angelic of the two. He is hopelessly in love with her, as, frankly, he should be, because she's an old soul and sweet and yummy, and she smells exactly like Fritos Corn Chips. No, seriously. But this is my blog, so I can wax poetic about Toula if I want to. So there.

At the end of the trail you actually walk through an area that is sort of trail, sort of these people's back yard. They know it, so to keep folks from walking up to their back window, knocking, and asking what's for dinner, they carved out a little walkway from stones going away from the house, and tossed in some seating areas and general yard tchotchke art. We stopped to gaze in the gazing ball, and dream of the next time we'll get to walk just the two of us.

Well, I did. Toula just dreamed of ham.