A Walk in the Woods

by Tom Swift


We were kicked out of the bird sanctuary.

Actually, it’s more accurate to say that we were turned away at the door.

And we weren’t even packing a hammock. We did not, in other words, have clandestine motives to steal hammock time.

The sun was seriously glorious today. That is why the little buddy and I got in the car to find a new place to walk — new ground on which to pee. And sniff. And pee again.

I really wanted a place with woods. A path through the woods — that is what I had in mind. A park that was, if technically not an off-leash, a place where a victimless crime could be committed. A local bird sanctuary came up on the magic box. Seemed perfect. Except they don’t let four-leggeds into the bird sanctuary. (Or hammocks, apparently.) We learned this upon arrival. This was disappointing but some days cannot be spoiled. Certainly not by laminated signs with red lines.

Undeterred, we walked around the sanctuary, also part way around a nearby lake, and later found a path through a woods near a cemetery. The little buddy at one point started running around like a madman — his distinct manner, in which he dashes this way and that, back and forth, paws akimbo — his form of the happy dance.

One of the beautiful things in this life is to go for a long winter walk, get ticketed our, then come home, eat a big meal, and cuddle on the couch until you slip into a dreamy little nap.