During Betty’s morning “walk,” I heard a voice in the distance saying: “Oh, Betty is so beautiful. My husband just raves about her. I’ve never seen a black basset hound before.” Even people in the neighborhood who’ve never seen Betty know about her. Me? I could be wearing a tuxedo or dressed as a crazy clown and no one would notice.
While taking Betty on her evening sniff, I saw a few other people out with their dogs. One couple managed to stroll around two whole blocks during the time it took Betty and me to move 100 feet. I wonder what it is like taking a dog on a walk.
I guess the basset hound paradox comes into play here (apologies to Zeno of Elea). Before a basset hound can move 1 unit forward, it must sniff and move 1/2 unit forward. But before it can move 1/2 unit forward, it must sniff and move 1/4 unit forward. But before it can move 1/4 unit forward, it must sniff and move 1/8 unit forward. But…oh, forget it, there is plenty to sniff right here on this spot and it can be done sitting down. Stop pulling on the fucking leash and let me sniff in peace.
I don’t take Betty on walks. I’m more like a chauffeur who takes her around to see her friends. These friends don’t know who the fuck I am, but they sure know Betty. I stand all alone 16 feet away holding one end of the retractable leash while Betty receives a warm welcome and attention. When we pass by a little neighborhood bar, the patrons are all this: “Hi Betty! She is so cute! I love that dog!”
