Going For A Walk

Buddy walks slow as we go for a walk, his years are catching up with him. People are enchanted by him walking off his lead, they nearly always all smile at the sight of him trotting along with me, unencumbered.

The day is cold, just passed the shortest day and longest night. The breeze has a bite. I can feel it on my ears.

A man picks up cigarette butts from the footpath, eventually lighting one,

as he fingers the parking ticket machine for forgotten change.

I guess few of us go through that stage.

Loud music plays from a tangerine Golf, windows down, in a look at me gesture.

I guess we all go through that stage.

Two guys walk passed in matching black puffer jackets and caps, and beefy thighs, full of confidence, as they turn in unison and give Buddy a smile. Boy friends in matching clothes, but that might just be me.

A guy with a staffy on a rope pulls it back sharply as it turns nasty as Buddy approaches. The man laughs proudly at his dog’s reaction, but maybe thats just how I saw it. Usually I’m a good judge, though.

Couples walk passed in coats with shopping bags in their hands, Saturday morning at the shops fills in some time in life.

We see Gus the bulldog in the distance, he waves hello, well, his human does. There is camaraderie in having matching dogs. 

We stop at the bakery to get fresh bread to fill our stomachs and warm our hearts.

Surcharge on the weekend, the unapologetic counter chick informs me when I question being charged more. I was going to mention how they banded together and got overtime rates abolished, but I didn’t. The user always pays now a days, now we have universal sympathy for how hard it is to run a business, all making record profits.

The branches on the trees are winter bare.

The once green leaves now lay scattered on the ground. 

The sky is grey and colourless.

The rain starts to fall from the grey sky, just as home is coming into sight. Buddy can’t increase his speed due to the inclemency, not that he cares, not as much as I do. He goes on sniffing in the undergrowth seemingly oblivious. I go on writing, even as my screen becomes speckled with spots, what else is there to do?