Just One Block

Late Saturday afternoon I put on a rain poncho, grabbed an umbrella and dragged Boz outside because he wouldn't go on his own. I wouldn't have done this if Boz had seemed happy where he was, but he'd been complaining of boredom all day. And he, uh, needed to go.

The rain was steady but light. "One block," I said to Boz. "Just one block, and if you're successful, we can go home."

It's very wet in Pasadena, as you may have heard, but it isn't cold. It's been hovering around 60 degrees during the daytime. So when we came upon the neighborhood kids having a snowball fight, you can bet I needed to investigate.

The kids were bundled up like I used to do in Illinois winters. They were having a blast. They'd been sledding before the snowball fight, and would be sledding again. The parents were having a beer and a nosh, going in and out of the lovely Craftsman home nearby. Christmas lights twinkled on the lawn. I stopped to marvel and asked the homeowner if I could take pictures. He shook my hand and said, "Sure!"

Boz wasn't thrilled. Turning into an alley was not part of our one block agreement. And Boz is not a water dog. The one thing he likes less than rain is hoses.

And that is a hose.

But Boz waited as patiently as he could while I talked to the neighbors and took my shots. Patience under these circumstances meant leaning against my leg and saying "murph," over and over again, as plaintively and sweetly as possible. The neighbors, who don't know me very well, were festive and friendly--they exhibited their Christmas spirit by offering me food and drink and inviting us to their party. We'd have stayed, too, if I hadn't had other plans for the evening--and if I hadn't made a promise to Boz.

Once I had my shots I thanked our friendly neighbors, then Boz and I continued around the block. Boz kept up his end of the bargain and we returned home, each of us knowing, in our own way, that the walk had been a success.