Four minutes to read.
Dear Travel Journal,
I had a lovely walk today with Magellan. When it comes to hometown sightseeing, he is my favorite traveling companion.
Everything Magellan cares about is here in Davis, California. Doggie dates at the off-leash dog park. Shops with sidewalk water bowls. Pet stores selling his favorite dog food. Greenbelts bedecked with metal sculptures of frolicking dogs.
Within the city limits, there are 399 acres of parkland, 38,465 city-owned trees, miles of dog walking paths (also used by cyclists) and 70,000 humans. There’s no census by canine breed, let alone for mutts like Magellan, but he has lots of dog friends.
Cats, geese, ducks and a zillion squirrels get Magellan’s tail wagging. Occasionally we stumble upon a flock of wild turkeys. They are too clueless to be amusing, but too combative to ignore. Magellan clears our way with a frenzied, driven work ethic.
After dark, Magellan has a special fondness for the Sycamore Park water sprinklers. Even a human can smell the mist as the sprinkler heads pulse in continuous rotation. Shush, shuush, shuuush. Magellan has never said so, but I’m sure he thinks that snapping at water plumes is hysterically funny.
On an autumn day, when the sky is a dull, dirty white, before the rains muddy the roads and after the summer heat has receded, Magellan and I walk for hours—he mostly runs—along the edges of olive orchards and walnut groves with old barns. I’m lanky with a long, steady stride. Magellan has a bounding gait.
He is the four-legged epitome of mindfulness. His concentration never wanders ahead to tomorrow’s worries or drags behind remembering yesterday’s mistakes. Whether ball chasing, walking by my side, running alone, sniffing at tree stumps or gobbling his food, he is infallibly focused.
Magellan takes a special delight in being a dog. Loud slurps of cool water. Boisterous barks at intruders disguised as our mailman. Snoring naps on the frayed carpet at my feet. Bones from the butcher shop.
If the weather calls for a windbreaker or a woolen scarf, Magellan shows up in a fur coat. When my calves beg me to sit down, when I’m ready to turn towards home, Magellan nags me about my cardiovascular health.
Magellan never mentions it, but he and I are aging friends repeating the same jokes without letting on that either of us knows. We are like matured ears of corn left behind by the combine of life. Aside from my bipedal inability to run faster, Magellan takes me as I am.
Out beyond the edge of town, the rows of corn stand tall, green, lush. Today Magellan pretended he was a great hunter stalking--endlessly and without result—the dangerous, illusive, wily jack rabbit.
Returning to my side with his tongue hanging out, his pleasured, easy panting let me know that he was in no hurry to head home. So we stayed longer than my human life should have. I missed an appointment with my cardiologist. Missed getting the test results.
Plenty of time in a dog’s life to follow the scent of another rabbit.
Plenty of time.