Walking the Dog

One of the particularly pleasant parts of my day comes after my son has climbed aboard the school bus and begun the punishing 2 mile ride to his school. I head down the small street that runs from the bus stop to the 4-lane surface arterial that cuts through the residential areas, hang a left, and proceed to walk north. Invariably, I am aware of numerous stares and smiles, and more than a few expressions of stunned surprise.

I wish I could say it my Greek god-like form that is drawing the stares, but I know better. People are looking at the dogs.

There are three of them, to be exact. First we have George Washington and Marquis de Lafayette. George is about 11 months old, weighs 80 pounds or so, is reddish brown and displays the characteristics of at least 3 distinct breeds (lab, Dane, and German Shepherd). Marquis is about 8 months old, 50 pounds, the same color, and looks to be Sharpei-something-something. As Trish says, both dogs are "mutts crossed with mongrels". They look enough alike to be brothers, or father and son, but we got them several months apart from different sources. Their names come from our son Jacob's love of a TV series called Liberty's Kids. The show was about the American Revolution, and was running on PBS at the time.

The story of our getting these dogs will have to wait for another post, though.

But as cute as they are, most of the stares are really for the three-year old Hubert. Hubert is a full-blooded Great Dane. Black, about as tall as my waist, and weighing 120 pounds, Hubert is the largest dog many people have ever seen.

And he draws many many admiring stares. I get a big kick out of seeing little kids straining to see over the door frames of cars as they go by, and full-grown adults staring with open mouths. The presence of the other two dragging me along just adds to the spectacle.