Slow Walks

Mommy was sick today. All morning was boring, because I had nothing to watch and no one to smile at. But when she took me for a walk, she took teeny tiny pokey steps, and that turned out good for me. When you walk slow, you can hear buzzy bees, whizzy cars, whirry birdwings. The best part was I got to sniff everything. Mom was on cement, which doesn't hold smells very well, but I walked on grass the whole time. She let me sniff as long as I wanted in all the grass. When I lingered by a yellow fire hydrant with a shiny, sticky side, she said "That's enough snifferdoodle," and we shuffled on. But that was the only time. If she had asked me, I could have told her which grass squirrels had scampered on, which grass the neighbor dogs had poopied on, which grass a birdie had stopped to pull a worm out of and what kind of berries that birdie ate earlier. When I smelled bunny on the grass, you better believe I looked under the nearest porch to find the bunny. I didn't find any bunnies, but I did feel like Adventure Dog.