I Feel like a Dog walking Herself

Photo by Artem Beliaikin from Pexels

A day ago, I went to a park that’s located not too far from my home. Feeling a little restless, I wanted to run. I wanted to feel heated up. To feel sweat dripping down my face, to smell stench emerging out from my own body, and to hear breath panting with my every step. That’s a good run for me.

But as I walked toward the park, the clouds shifted and the sun came out. And then my tummy ached. I wasn’t sure whether it’s the ache of hunger or the ache of my cramps. So I walked. The plan was to walk off the ache.

Restlessness and tummy ache go well together. A constant battle taking place. The restlessness most times triumphing over the ache. The mind over the physical. Mind over matter. But no one is the ultimate winner. Both stayed. And similarly, they don’t stay too long.

I walked and people-watched. Or I tried to. For some reason, I didn’t want to be too near to many people but yet not alone. That dictated the direction of my walk. I was always thinking I will be going to break into a slow jog soon so the trackway was also in sight; carefully calculated in my head.

Thankfully, the restlessness stopped briefly. But the ache stayed and so the walk continued. At that moment, I realized that restlessness was the driver of my run. To sweat was the outlet for my restlessness. However, I choose not to run for the ache had spread not just to my tummy but my legs.

Maybe the 12 hr shift earlier had taken a tolled on my body. My legs felt spent but yet the mind still wanted to keep going. Like motion was somehow needed for just a few more minutes or hours. Just keep going till we reach the destination that is comfortable and tranquil. But I don’t know when.

So I walked.

In passing, I saw someone with a dog. Such a fluffy fluff ball. How I wished to have a dog beside me. But I don’t too. Getting a fluff ball is more than having a companion.

I thought about how the dog needed a person to walk it. But I don’t. How I relate myself back to the dog. That I’m no different to a dog as I hold an imaginary leash and walk myself around. How the walk was therapeutic for me as I hoped for the dog.

How sad in my head, I see myself bounded by an imaginary leash. For proper decorum or simply being comparative, I’m a freer being than the dog. A winning leash in my own hands. But then I’m no winner, for such freedom is no comparable to the dog in hand with its companion.