The night is cool as I step out of the house, my bounding dachshund leaping ahead of me off the low porch. She seems a little extra rambunctious. I take a couple steps after her, and then turn, reentering the house through the garage door. My dachshund rushes over, not to be left out of the action, but quickly jumps out again followed closely by me and my bike. She is so happy! Bike rides mean running and she loves to run.
I mount my bike a call “let’s go wiener dog!” She runs around the curve down the driveway, kicking up pebbles with her claws. I pedal hard gaining momentum and only catch her half way. As we near the end, I slow to check for traffic but she doesn’t. It’s ok; there is very little traffic on our road.
It rained a little yesterday and some trucks have flattened the now dry gravel into smooth riding, my favorite, in some parts. The breeze is head on. No, not quite. It’s a little to my left. I should have grabbed my coat but it is too late now.
She runs at a steady pace and I marvel at her speed, but we don’t go far before I finally get ahead of her. I stop and wait for her to catch up. The sun has set but its yellow glow hasn’t faded yet, and I admire it behind the clouds as my dog trots around me. It is such a beautiful evening, and I start this post on my phone notes.
It’s time to go back, I decide. I’m getting cold in my tee shirt, and my dachshund is less excited. I turn my bike. “Come on wiener dog, IN!” She knows it’s time to head home. She runs a fairly constant speed back, stopping only twice with distraction of
new smells. The wind helps me now, pushing
Now, a few hours later, she lays still, soft, and warm on my lap. It was a good idea to let her run.