Tim Dowling: I went out to walk the dog and came home a hero
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My wife asked me to do the afternoon dog walk. I begrudgingly acquiesced, with no idea of the drama that lay ahead. It is a bleak and featureless afternoon; the bottom of the year’s trough. I don’t want to do anything except look out the window and complain.
![[Tim Dowling]](https://i.guim.co.uk/img/uploads/2018/01/30/Tim_Dowling,_R.png?width=75&dpr=1&s=none&crop=none)
“Horrible,” I say. “I was hoping,” my wife says, “that you might kindly do the afternoon dog walk.”. I’ve been married long enough to know that a certain graceful acquiescence is called for here. “Oh my God, what?” I say. “I did the morning,” she says, “And I’ve got work to catch up on.”.
“I also have work,” I say. “I’m a businessman.”. “It would be a great help,” she says. “Yeah, fine, whatever,” I say. The new dog bounds into the room, leaps on to the sofa and places both front paws on my chest. “Not yet, though,” I say.
An hour later we set off into the gloom. The rain, for the moment, is holding off, but the grey light is fast leaching from the sky. “Come on, let’s do this,” I say, tugging on my end of the lead as the dog laps at a puddle. I’ve had dogs long enough to know that a little patience is called for. But I’m not feeling it.
The park is nearly empty, which is how I like it. I make for an open stretch of squelchy grass and let the dog off the lead. It runs in large circles, nose to the ground. I stand still as the mud sucks at my boots, like the earth trying to pull me in.
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