The Stench of True Love

5:02 A.M.: There is something cool and moist pressing against my closed eyelid. It feels like a soggy overripe loganberry. Except, there is a steam-rush of hot air behind every thrust. I wince but I’m too bloody tired to turn over. I feel a heavy, warm paw gently placed on the top of my forehead as though it were a steam towel put there for my comfort. I slowly open my eyes. It was only my dog, Sydney. Ready to start the new day with a brisk walk. The ‘’briskness’’ was from him, not me. I would crawl behind him with one eye closed muttering ‘’ Good boy. That’s a good doggy’’ intermittently spoken while snoring.

It was my fault that Syd got up so early. I inadvertently trained him that way. You see, I had decided to ‘’get fit’’ and start jogging at 5:30 every morning. It was a moment of insanity brought about by the giddy joy I felt at having my new puppy. The thought went something like this; we would face the dawn together, happily trotting around the city with the sunrise – then have our breakfast. Mine of toast and tea, his of carefully selected animal bits mixed with kibble. This glorious plan lasted all of about two weeks. Although the fitness aspect of the plan was thrown-under-the-bus, we continued to rise at 5:00 am for the much needed morning dog walk that Sydney was now accustomed to having. I got up every morning, weekends included, at 5:00 am for the entire length of Sydney’s life.

I still rise at dawn. Sometimes it’s 4:30 am; at others, I’ll make it to 5:30. Old habits are hard to break. I’ll do yoga on some mornings, and then go for a walk around the city park. I like the cool air at this hour, and there are other people in the park too walking their pets towards the dog-park. Here they meet with friends, or make new ones. They sit about talking and laughing while their dogs soak up the heady mixture of dog-scented grass and the feces-scented flytraps that surround the enclosed area. The giddy pet owners don’t seem to notice the ominous fragrance as they gaze on lovingly at the fun their pets are having.

Whenever I took Syd to a dog-designated area in Paris (well, actually the entire city can be considered a ‘’dog-designated area’’ but that’s another story) I never noticed the smell of the park. It was only when I brought friends with me in the afternoons and noticed the look of horror on their faces, did I understand that there was something malodorous about the air. But I was too much in love with my pet to notice.

Now that I no longer have a dog, I notice these things. Mostly in the warmth of the summer air, but I notice it nonetheless. But I also notice the looks on the faces of the dog owners, and I remember being in that place of ignorant bliss. So I just smile, occasionally wince when the wind shifts. And briskly walk on my way.