Our Weekend Walks

Meet Max & Leo!  They're the Miniature Pinscher mixes that Mr. C. and I have been practicing our parenting skills on since we first brought Leo home in 2007. 

Because they're small-breed dogs, they don't require a lot of intense exercise. As a result, we do a lot of this couch potato thing during the work week. 

On the weekends, we change it up and they get some quality dog time out of me. I try to take them to the local dog park at least once. The socialization is good for these little monsters, who are often painfully territorial around the house. And we stop at the Sonic Drive-In for a diet cherry limeade and a small dish of vanilla soft serve or an order of tater tots and they also get biscuits from the nice girls on roller skates. I get chided from Mr. C. for giving in to them too much, but their lives are short and their love is unconditional. Besides, it's not like they're teenagers asking for $500 prom dresses and $30,000 cars. They just want $1 worth of ice cream once a week. They go crazy for that!

On the days we don't make it to Sonic and the dog park, we take our weekend walks.  It's an interesting little ritual we have that the three of us love and for that reason I thought I'd share it with you.  This is what the boys and I do while Mr. C. sleeps in on Saturday or Sunday...

We're sandwiched between the local intracoastal river and the Atlantic Ocean, so our neighborhood is filled with blocks and blocks of tiny beach bungalows from the 40s and 50s.  Our walks start out our back door, and I love to walk up and down the streets behind us imagining how I'd turn a little rambler like this: 

Into a loved and well-cared for retreat like this:

The boys and I usually spend their sniff-and-dump time walking around these little homes, down one street and back up another, while I scoop poop, jam out to Lady Gaga and dream of the milestone that is home-ownership.  

When their business is finished and I can prevent them from wasting too much time, we kick the walk into high gear and hit the coastal highway.  Lined with shops and parks and plenty of sidewalks, I enjoy the highway's views while the guys enjoy meeting all of the other pedestrians and cyclists we pass along the way. Lady Gaga is usually Linkin Park by this time, and high-rise condos disappear so that the ocean finally comes into view:

Some mornings there will be dolphins, and pelicans diving in sync are not uncommon. There are almost always fishing boats in the distance. For a Midwestern kid like me, it really is some kind of miracle that I live here. 

Our walk turns back west, toward the intracoastal, after two miles or so.  I admire more beach bungalows until we hit the river, where the size and architecture of the homes change dramatically:

And these homes stretch the entire length of the river, more or less, up and down the street where we live.  Our little concrete block home, built in 1955, pales in comparison to some of the surrounding estates.  A lot of the places have wrought iron gates, fountains and names like "Southern Serenity." I'll have to remember to add The Barenaked Ladies' "If I Had A Million Dollars" to my iTunes!

We stop to admire the river. I don't mind the brackish smell of fresh water and sea water mixing, and the dogs love to sniff around all of the different fish that have been caught and cleaned on the public pier.  There's usually a good breeze in the morning too, making a quick break even more enjoyable for all of us.

The view to the north:  

And the view to the south:

After a "halfway" rest (and, if necessary, a good bark-fest at some fishermen or passing jetskis), we turn back from the river and head for the hiking trails.  The public pier is the western end of a local park that spans the length of the beachside, from the river on the west to the ocean on the east.  With the natural hills still in-tact, the park's hiking trails make for a decent burst of cardio in the middle of our stroll. 

I love the tropical foliage here in Florida.  Makes me want to keep Muldoon close by in case the raptors are hungry!

Sometimes we make new friends along the hike. Max & Leo are always good to embarrass me when we meet up with a larger dog. And the boys are cute enough that the people out without dogs of their own feel the need to stop and pet and coo at them while having the same old conversation with me.

Stranger in the park:  OOOOOooooh! Cute babies! What kind are they?!

Me:  They're Miniature Pinscher mixes.
Stranger in the park:  I thought so! Are you sure they're mixed? That little one looks like he could be purebred, if only his tail were docked!
Me:  He might be, but this one, the big one, he's definitely not all Min Pin.
Stranger in the park:  Look at these adorable pink and blue collars! Are they brother and sister?
Me:  (grumbling) I thought that was purple when I bought it. Silly me, huh? They're both male.

Stranger in the park:  And not from the same litter?
Me:  Not even from the same shelter! 

Stranger in the park:  Oh, well, they're precious. My so-and-so's what's-her-face had Min Pins for years. We just love them!

Me:  (looking around for the additional person or persons that would complete the 'we' that Stranger is speaking of) They are great little dogs. Enjoy the rest of your day! 

Other days, we're the only ones on the trails, and if I weren't just a bit nervous about what kind of critters call the park home, that would suit me just fine.  There's so much to look at while I get lost in my thoughts:

By the time we're finished with the trails, these little pups and I have logged three miles and they're starting to get weary. Max, panting hard, still doesn't know when to quit, and he'll pull at his leash and chase squirrels and birds and cats until I force him back into the house when we're done. Leo, on the other hand, will actually stop and turn back to me, jumping at my heels just begging for me to start for home.  

Leo always wins. It's about a mile and a half to our house from the eastern entrance of the park, and so we find the coastal highway and don't stop until we make it home. And that's just fine with me, because the view on our homeward bound leg is just as nice as all the other views we take in during our weekend walk:

In total, we log about 4.5 miles. Because of all the pottying that takes place early on, it takes us about 1.5 hours to do the entire thing. And despite the fresh air and the sun and the views, I'm still convinced that the best part of all is how tuckered the boys are when we get home. I won't have to play ball or tug a rope for hours now, and they'll leave the cats alone and snooze on the sofa while Mr. C. and I tend to some of our usual weekend domestic duties.

Which reminds me:  our weekend walk is over, I've blogged about it, and Mr. C. is still sleeping. Time to remedy that. I don't do weekend domestic duties alone!