What Ravi’s Slow Walks Taught Me About Hurry

My Walks with Ravi

Our walks used to end around the twelve minute mark. Now we are lucky to be home by twenty five. Ravi likes to sniff a mailbox he has sniffed a hundred times before, like it is brand new information. While I stand there doing nothing, Ravi gets all the time he needs to lower his nose and process the contents of the grass in ways I will never understand.

At the beginning, I would give the leash gentle tugs and call him cheerfully in my most encouraging voice. I thought a little encouragement from me would be enough to keep him focused on the walk, but he really could not care less. I quickly learned my tugs and calls were wasted effort, and that my phone should really just stay in my pocket.

Puppies ask for an endurance kind of patience. Older dogs ask for something different entirely. They ask for presence.

Instead of treating Ravi like he’s trying to get to the park to chase squirrels, I had to switch my mindset to stop controlling his walk and simply enjoy it. He wants to smell every single thing, like a total nerd.

I always thought that I was the one doing Ravi the favor. Taking him out, making him exercise, and keeping him active in his old age. But on a Tuesday morning last month, while Ravi was sniffing the same tuft of grass for the third time, I realized he was doing something I had forgotten.

He was showing me how to do nothing.

The world around us is full of things to do, so why wouldn’t we do them? Why wouldn’t we listen to podcasts on 1.5x speed? Why wouldn’t we feel accomplished about multitasking? When a senior dog looks at you, he reminds you that none of that really matters. What matters is that we are here, and we are enjoying the sun together.

I’ve started noticing things on our slow walks that I missed for years. Between eight and eight thirty, the light on the Henderson’s brick wall looks different. Someone three streets over has a rosemary bush in their front yard. I’ve learned to look for the small brown bird that always perches on the same wire.

Ravi has taught me to relax and enjoy the things I’ve always overlooked.

I know that eventually these walks will come to an end. The morning walks will eventually be silent without sniffing and excitement. I push that thought to the back of my mind because I know the truth. It is the kind of truth people know when they love something that won’t be around forever. Perhaps this is one of the things I’m learning from him as well. Knowing that something is more important, more valuable, or limited, it’s an opportunity to slow down and not rush through it.

So when Ravi stops at the mailbox, or the fire hydrant, or a completely boring patch of sidewalk, I stop too. I relax my shoulders. I take a moment to watch the clouds. I stand with him in whatever moment he’s stopping for because it’s obviously important to him.

I have learned that patience is not about waiting. It’s about being ready to be present where you actually are.