The cat just took me for a walk

In my effort to become as much more mobile as I can without making myself sad about it, I determined to do what I call my "loop walk" whenever the mood strikes. It's out one driveway, up the road (respectable hill), down the other driveway. It's a beautiful walk and is short enough that I can do it on a whim, without allocating more than ten minutes for it. There are the rest of you hiking up mountain and down dale and pitching hay bales and hauling compost and here am I, striving to do a ten minute walk on anything like a regular basis. 
That's all right; one has to start somewhere, doesn't one?


Most people who have dogs have canine companionship on country road walks. I used to. Tonight, Max was sleeping and Angus stood in the door and said, "It's too close to fisher/dark time. I'm not goin'!" MiMau, on the other hand, was out in front of me, leading the way, her little hang-down belly swinging from side to side. We were a good pair, now that I picture us in memory...


I saw some lovely simple pink flowers that looked like this, but appeared to have grapeviney leaves. Who can tell, without investigation (and I was walking, not investigating) what leaves are attached to what flower on these country roadsides?
I don't care what they are, beyond Pretty. 

~http://www.paghat.com/rugosa.html

A brown thrasher followed MiMau and me for a little time, yelling at us in some Slavic language and in French: "Chak! Chak! Piriot! Piriot! Piriot!" Makes me wonder where that bird spends his winters.

There is a spot about a third of a mile along where some trees rub together in the breeze. I look to see which trees they are but they stop until I turn back around. They sound a little Halloweeny, sneakily creaking like that.  

By the time I got to the entrance to the top driveway tonight, I was swinging along pretty well, and it's all downhill from there, so it got very easy at the same time. 

That worked out well! 

As I approached the house, Angus stood inside the glass door and barked at me. Husband came and opened the door. Angus stayed in the doorway and barked. Husband remonstrated with him for trying to wake everybody (Max) up. Angus said, "It's too close to fisher/dark time. I'm not goin'!" and indeed, he did not come out the door, even onto the still very well-lit-by-sunshine lawn. That's all right. He's sixteen: he doesn't have another skinning recovery left in him.

As I came inside, and turned to close the door, I looked back and saw MiMau sprawled on the gravel of the driveway. I think she's going to wait for a passing chipmunk or a still-inept baby bird of some description to pass by. She's a good companion for a walk: doesn't require conversation, doesn't go too fast or too slow, doesn't care if we stay abreast . . . and doesn't critique my performance at the end, but goes on with her own agenda.