Slow Walks with an Old Dog

Taking one creaky, careful footstep at a time - and a 20-minute heart-focused yoga flow

There’s an often-repeated parable - whether Native American in origin or fabricated by Billy Graham depends on who you ask - that holds that there are two wolves inside of each of us. I’m convinced, though, that my two dogs are personal avatars:

Stella, the new young apprentice pup, hound and lab and antelope, probably, is all big goofy wide-open energy. At just about two years old, the world is still Out. There. Waiting. For. Me. To. Discover. It. LET'S GO!!!!! As I travel through my own middle years, the inner young pup still sometimes puts in appearance, all enthusiasm and mad sprints, initiation energy and fearless optimism.

Panzer, our nearly 13-year-old man, has been with us for more than twelve, through three cross-country moves, multiple career changes, a global pandemic, and a final move out to the country. He has seen it all and mostly does only what he wants to. He’s at the life stage where you look at your humans with patient, Jedi eyes, no tricks needed to receive praise and rewards. Once a sprinter, he’s now much more inclined to take in the view from the comfort of the living-room sofa, in between naps. But he still likes to get outside and refresh the senses.

It’s a different experience walking with an old dog. More waiting, fewer dashes into the woods. Certain trees and bushes become very interesting. There’s less risk of a sudden smell leading to a cross-country chase; more risk that I’ll simply have to push, pull, or carry my favorite 80-pound sack of potatoes all the way back to the house.

It’s instructive, though, slowing down like this, kneeling down to see what on earth could possibly be so interesting that it’s worth smelling for three whole minutes, judging the exertion needed to complete a return trip from wherever we ended up (usually two-tenths of a mile to the bottom of the driveway), teaching even the rambunctious youngster to wait patiently.

I’ve found walking ahead of my sweet old bear doesn’t speed things up at all; instead, he moves much more confidently and happily if I’m right next to him, dispensing pets and treats and hugs every few feet. You can’t let the ego lead, walking with an old dog. It’s all work for the heart. I cherish every step.

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Below: audio version of this post + a 20-minute heart-focused flow