By Michelle Iannucci
I never really knew how my neighborhood could save me from a life of confinement. After all, I live in a place that is rural—so the outside world never really presses or encroaches on us so much. So how in a place that is secluded can my world suddenly open up?
Now I always take walks with the dog. Daily trots. Or when calling Ziggy, my standard poodle, I’m apt to say, “Hey are you ready for a strollie-stromboli!” Who doesn’t like a Stromboli? With beef and cheese treats in pocket and leash in hand, we head out with enthusiasm and vigor.
These days it makes me a bit sad that I don’t really like people petting the dog. To make greetings less awkward, I just say, “Hey no time like the present to practice loose leash walking and control when meeting strangers—remember Ziggy, social distancing for you too!”
Now, because there is little else to do, more people are walking. And it is on these walks that I have met and become friends with more of my neighbors. Nothing like a virus to bring people together! Well, a street-width across.
Besides people, animals are also part of the walk’s delight. So, I start this first installment with the two horses that live about a mile or so up the road. Now, we don’t know their names. But they are always grazing and gazing at the open expanse of their pasture. And oftentimes, they are at the fence to meet and greet.
On this day, the sky is blue with promise. Ziggy’s coat almost looks like it could have been woven from those clouds pressing up against the sky. He poses with the look of a thoroughbred, well in truth he is a purebred. In the distance, trees and more blue sky. And then I say, “Hey Ziggy no horsing around!” We laugh and continue our walk.
The day was April 17—National Haiku Day. Who can pass up an opportunity to stretch one’s imagination on a day dedicated to a three-line poem of 5-7-5 syllables? So, when we returned, we wrote:
When taking a walk,
Mother teaches me to heel—
Until the world heals.
