Momma and I sure are walking a lot lately. I don't walkie on daycare days, which are twice a week, so that only leaves five days a week to get out and get going. Even still, we're averaging 15-17 miles a week, momma and I, which is about twice as far as we used to go.
I think we should make it an even 20, don't you? So today I told momma we need to go on another one of those "just keep going" walkies.
Sure enough, we reached our usual turning around point but we just kept going and before you know it, we had arrived at Simpson Park. Sorry about the sign being so bright. Blame it on the fact that it was a beautiful, sunny day.
Simpson Park is located on the banks of the Sudbury River. It's close to where momma and master's original estate was. Legend has it that my human brother used to take young ladies here to go canoeing and they would come ashore downstream, on a little island for some teenager, recreation. Why not?
These signs were everywhere. I think it means, "don't eat fish here." I checked to see if momma had brought any fish along, but she hadn't so we were all set to explore.
I asked if I could go for a swim.
Momma said, "Oh Dexter, you can't go in there because there is a current..."
Then she stopped talking. "Current what?" I wondered. Something recent that makes swimming impossible? Imprudent? Unpleasant?
That little exchange sure was frustrating for yours truly and you can bet I gave a mighty tug on my string. Whatever unfinished thought momma had, it boiled down to "you can't go swimming because I said so."
But life is too short to dwell on these minor setbacks and I was off to explore.
Further back from the road is a tree in the middle of a circle that somebody donated to the town (that would be the tree, not the circle). That road used to be Fenwick Rd (well, I suppose it still is), but it got cut in half back in 1955 when the Massachusetts State Turnpike was built. There's no bridge or anything, so now half the road is on one side of the Turnpike and half is on the other which causes no end of trouble for hapless humans seeking an address.
I suppose this explains why momma neglected to bring cookies on this particular walkie.
When did they pass a law about public feeding? Now I'm going to feel like some sort of miscreant every time momma straps on the bag of noms for our outings.
I sure am enjoying our new walkie attitude. Momma says that every day she and I are both healthy we need to take pleasure in that and spend time together exploring the neighborhood.
Right on, Momma!
Back home, I "relaxed" with my weekly raw nommy bone. I used to have mine inside while Mango had his outside. Let's just say there were some "issues" between us regarding recreational bones.
But now that I am the dog of the house, I am supposed to have my bone outside and, frankly, I am having trouble adjusting to that idea.