A Late K9 Kamp Blog: Every Walk is Making a Memory by Pocket

I am sorry, my friends, that I am so late with my K9 Kamp blog but life got in the way of Kamp this year.  First, my beloved sister and mentor Foley went to the Bridge, and then my new sister, River Song arrived, and I had to train her.

During this time I learned something important about K9 Kamp, and walking.  It is not only good for our health, and a great bonding experience between pet and parent, but each walk is the chance to make a new memory, and when our time comes all we are left with are memories.

Before Mommy and Daddy lived at the village of the Pruned they lived across the street in a non Pruned village.  They used to bring their first dog, Blake here to walk.  When they moved across the street from the state mental institution they would still come here to walk occasionally so Foley walked on the streets I walk now when she was just a pup.

When we pass the entrance I see the ramp that leads to the mail room.  I pooped on that ramp the first day we moved in.  Then Daddy stepped on it.  He was so mad at me.  Foley thought it was funny.  

Behind the mailroom is a little drainage ditch.  Before we moved in here, when Foley was just about my age, Mommy had told Daddy to drop the poop bag in the ditch.  The next day when Daddy was walking Foley here a grumpy man who worked here told Daddy if he kept walking Foley here he would call the police on him.  Daddy got very upset.  Foley stuck out her tongue and went phfffttt..

Next to the ditch is a tree that Foley and I stood under and got our picture taken, with both of our tongues out, and big smiles on our face.  That was a really good walk that day.  I don’t pass that tree without thinking of Foley and the big smile on her face.

Around the tree is the grass area that we used to romp in.  Both of us would jump up and down in the high grass like two little bunnies.  Oh how we loved the high grass.  And every once in awhile we would see a squirrel and take off after that thing like nobody’s business.

Across the street is where the Bichon Friese lives and man did Foley and I bark at that dog.  It was all in good fun but our parents were always sure we would be fighting.  Around the corner from that is the community center with the handicapped ramp that I would hop up on and get myself tangled in before Foley taught me how to walk straight.  Across the street from that is the manager’s house who let us move in with two dogs when only one was allowed.  I thanked him by pooping in the middle of the driveway.  Next door to him was another dog who would sit in the window and bark at us each time we went by.  We gave it right back to him too.  I still do.  Up the road is where we met the wild, loose Yorkie, Orkie, and had to march him around the village to find his owners.  Across the street from that spot are the two homes of the people who would complain about Foley pooping in their front yard, and whose yard Foley would alway insist in pooping in once she learned of their complaint, adding a little butt wiggle to her pooping to add a spice of triumph to her rebellion.  Up the street from them is Mrs McAloon who, before we moved in here, told Daddy that Foley could walk here anytime because Foley was her guest.  A few doors down from her is the old man who rides his bike around the village and always told Foley, as she barked, that it was all right, it was only him.  Around the bend from her is where the Shih Tzu lives who was always loose and scared us when she ran across the street with traffic coming.  And there were houses where we were sure we saw Tanner Bub and Blazer.  And there was the Collie who would walk past us, very well trained, who sat next to her owner while we barked, embarrassing Daddy.

There are a million more memories I could list but Foley taught me that sometimes you need to find the end of your blog.  But next time your pup wants to walk and you don’t remember, it’s not just good for your physical body, but for your soul too, because our souls are made of millions of memories.