Everybody Walk Dogs Tonight

In 1984 I moved from Maine to Maryland, working at Three Letter Intelligence Agency.  I took my German Shepherd Jack with me; he was stuck in the apartment during the day, and so I almost always missed the lads going out to Happy Hour at the BWI Airport Holiday Inn happy hour* because he needed a walk.

It was on those walks that I met Amy** who was walking her Australian Shepherd, Rill.  We ended up walking the dogs together most days, because we got along pretty well (she was an Agency Crypto Mathematician) and the dogs liked playing.  Rill was a herding breed, and when Jack would chase a ball or a stick, she would chase him, herding him by nipping at his flanks.  He was mighty patient with her, and would come back with his haunches wet from where she had been nipping; once in a while she'd pinch too hard and he'd turn from the ball to (angrily) chase her.

But she was too quick for him, and she was part of the Pack.  Like Amy was.  She was the first person I heard playing this, and the rare times I hear it I'm suddenly transported back to Laurel, Maryland.  To a school ball field, a couple of dogs, an old friend, and a full head of hair.



* Note to new Three Letter Intelligence Agency staff at happy hour: don't tuck your badge into your pocket there, because Back In The Day, the KGB used to look for badge chains going into the pocket at the buffet there.  Just sayin'.

** Not her real name.  And Mrs. Borepatch was also friends with her.  She was a bridesmaid at our wedding.