The city’s lower floor
People begin a city with shop windows. I begin with a crack in the pavement, a wet line at the kerb and a smell left by another dog last night. My person looks at a map. I already know there is wind around the corner.
One leaf
A leaf crossed the path faster than a scooter. I stopped. My person stopped too. We watched it slide into the grass and continued. That was the entire route: home, tree, home. Short to a human; a large map to a nose.
When the human crouched down
On the next walk he crouched beside me for some reason. He looked towards the road and said, “Those wheels are enormous.” I had been trying to explain that a scooter is not a small thing when it passes beside your head.
We chose the neighbouring street. Fewer shop windows, more space between us and passing people. At first he looked bored, then noticed an old door with a green handle. Apparently the lower floor of the city was becoming interesting to him too.
Near home I stopped at the same tree. He did not take out his phone. He waited while I finished my important, untranslatable business.
This story uses an invented canine narrator. We do not know a pet’s exact thoughts in real life. We can, however, examine the route from their height: narrow spaces, nearby noise and places to move aside calmly. That small inspection can change a walk more than a new toy.
Useful? Save it for your next walk.