The Small Daily Commitment of Walking a Dog in the Rain

Rain crashed on my window and soaking everything. I lay there already knowing what I was getting up for.

Copper was sitting patiently by the door. He didn’t bark. He just laid there with his leash in his mouth knowing he was going for a walk.

I threw on my jacket and pulled my hood up. Copper rushed out the door unbothered and came out with his fur wet. I joined him too.

We walk the same path we’ve walked hundreds of times. There were slippery sidewalks and little puddles everywhere. Copper did his usual thing and sniffed a post, rain pouring down to his face.

I could’ve skipped this walk. No one was watching. I could’ve just thrown him in the yard for 5 minutes and called it a day, but I didn’t

The walk wouldn’t change. He doesn’t go off my mood. It doesn’t change with my level of sleep, the rain or my level of tired.

It’s part of the daily set of responsibilities that just is. It’s something I needed.

I used to think like this as well, I used to think of these walks as a chore and a simple thing to be ticked off a list. On mornings when it would rain, I would think about all the people still at home, dry and comfortable, while I was out here getting wet.

But eventually, it became more of a rhythm in my day and not an obligation. It became a constant among the many variables of my day. No matter what happened the day before, or what was coming later, I could always count on this. Copper and I would go on a walk, this time around the block.

As we rounded the final corner to head home, I noticed the absence of noise all around me. The neighborhood was completely still. The rain was quiet, and the only sound was the soft thud of Copper’s paws as he walked slowly on the now wet pavement. I noticed he seemed to be moving a little slower than he once would, but somehow, he still seemed to be interested in everything going on around him.

I wondered how many other people were outside right this moment walking dogs in the rain. It’s definitely not a comfortable thing to do. But it’s a commitment, one that we make and one that matters.

When we got back inside, I dried off Copper with a towel. He just stood there while I worked, being as patient as ever. He looked quite funny with his fur all sticking out, but he seemed to be happy with it.

While making coffee I began to feel more awake. It was different than anything I could feel from staying inside. I noticed my pants damp at my ankles and my drizzling jacket was hanging on a chair.

There is an absence of morals here, and no grand lesson about bid commitment and devotion. It just revolves around the small but frequent truth that doing something even when uncomfortable, is still doing it. In fact, it should be done even more.

In the corner, Copper is on his bed and asleep now with an even and deep breathing pattern. He also got what he needed and I, also got what I needed. We’ll do it all again tomorrow morning again, should it rain. And I’ll be glad again.