Think getting old isn’t for sissies? Well, here to tell you that having old dogs ain’t for sissies either.

After work I decided to take the The Elderly Dynamic Due for a walk, with Betty. We arrived at our destination and no one was there. Yay! Immediately I unclipped all three from their leashes and a’sauntering we went.

Betty was cavorting about as only a young dog does and Brady wasn’t too far behind, although more interested in smells. Youke sorta drifted slowly behind me, more interested in catching good sniffs, before quickly trotting forward to catch up to us again. All seemed as pretty normal, although I realized that my pace would be a bit slower than I prefer with the stopping and starting, waiting to make sure Youke cought up to us. We came to the first trail intersection, not even a half-mile in and Brady and Youke were demanding cookies for their efforts. I humoured them and Betty got a cookie too for being so good and checking in. Another few hundred feet and more demand for cookies. I parsed out a few more then told them all to go on. Of course, as the only dog with the gift of hearing, Betty was the only one that understood this. So I signed “all done” to the two starving dogs and flapped my hands for good measure in the Human universal sign of “dogs get out from underfoot of me.” Brady moved on to explore and sniff up front with Betty. Youke ambled to the side and sniffed smells.

I walked forward, thinking and pondering, because that’s mostly what I do on walks. I stopped and realized I did not hear the pitter patter of ancient Youke feet behind me. I looked. Not behind me, not to the side and definitely not ahead. Then I spotted him way behind me, turned in the wrong direction coming out of some brush he’d been sniffing. I stopped and waited for him to see me. At least I thought he could see me. The sun was in our faces and his vision is really bad now.

Nope. He was completely turned around and picking up the pace, headed back the way we just came. I started to call him, then remembered he cannot hear me. I started to walk quickly back hoping to catch up with him. Nope. I started to trot, three leashes wrapped around me and my dog pouch slapping against my hip, therefore making me even more not aerodynamic, although truthfully the huge banana and blueberry smoothie I made and slurped down late afternoon was the more likely culprit.

Betty was intrigued that as a pokey two-legger I am attempting something more ambitious. She easily glided up to me, bouncing around in front of me, asking what kind of game this was. Meanwhile, Youke was making some serious speed back the way we came and I’m soon going to lose sight of him.

I attempted to run, but first glance back to see if Brady realizes we’ve changed directions. He did and his face expressed complete bafflement. He started to trot toward us, but only to trot as I surmise he was hot and somewhat put out as he’d already sniffed the area we’d just come from pretty thoroughly.

Banana and blueberry smoothie sloshed in my extended stomach, threatening to go overboard if I even make any pretense at running. Meanwhile Betty seemed to thinks this whole Human Doing Funny Running Thing was hilarious and an intriguingly fun new game. I managed to pant out to her to “Go get Youke.” She charged forward, then stopped when she realized I was behind her and bounced up and down. I remembered then that she said she’s not a stock dog.

Youke was then so far in front of me that I realized I’d only catch up to him back at The LRoW, where he was apparently headed. I’m now sorta pissed because I drove 35 minutes to get there and sat on my ass for much of the day and I wanted to walk.

Youke stopped suddenly and turned. I saw him scanning. I stopped too, waving my arms above my head. I could tell he couldn’t see me. I asked Betty to run ahead, but she thought she needed to be a lot closer to observe all the attempted running and all the ungraceful flapping. Brady trotted up just then, very puzzled why we’re gong back to the car. I think Youke caught some glimpse of Brady as he then turned fully back toward us and started trotting back. I’m not sure if he really got turned around and couldn’t see me or was having a senior moment and thought he’d already done his walking loop. Whatever, he was placed on leash for the remainder of our walk.

Brady thought that for all of his troubles – the whole running back thing, now resuming the walk – warranted some cookies. I couldn’t really disagree, so he got some. We walked 50 feet and he came back to walk beside me, in perfect heel position. I ignore him because I know what’s coming next.

This is a really annoying thing that Brady now likes to do on walks. He likes to come right by my side, in heel position and walk or trot happily along, depending upon my pace, smiling and happy, for about 30 seconds. Sometimes it’s a minute. And then he starts loudly air snapping at me. If I ignore him, the air snaps become more frequent and he starts howling at me. This is all so I’ve give him more cookies.

I’ve never trained Brady to walk beside me. He’s always been polite walking on leash. I have over the years we’ve been together heavily reinforced his recall, rewarded with usually either cookies or a toy. I have employed the whole walking beside me in a nice relaxed position with Rhys in the past by feeding cookies in heel position, so perhaps Brady observed that. Pretty sure though that he just wants all the cookies and has decides the air snapping continuously at me when he is not rewarded for being beside me so nicely within a 30-second time span is his very Brady way of telling me he’s finally doing what I wanted him to do after all these years, now PAY!

For many, many years Brady enjoyed being ahead of me while hiking, Really far ahead. He also liked to do a lot of exploring, on his own. I sometimes wish he could talk because I think he saw some really cool stuff and had a lot of great adventures. But these adventures caused me a lot of gray hairs and we went many years with Brady on a long line while out hiking and exploring. However, Brady proved time and again over the years that he always knew where I was, generally where he was, and never got into a situation too far over his head. Eventually, we worked out a system that required a high level of trust from each other and enjoyed many, many miles of trails and fun, alternating off-leash and on-leash, depending on where we went.

So you’d think I’d be ecstatic that now the old dog wants to walk beside me after all those years of running ahead and worrying me. I’m not. It’s incredibly annoying to try to be enjoying a peaceful walk and to have the elderly redhead air snapping and yelling at me to give him a cookie every 30, 50, 100 feet. So after a few times of that, I usually just clip his leash back on, just as I did tonight.

The weird thing is that doesn’t even upset him. He’s perfectly happy to be on leash, walking beside me, and doesn’t once ask for a cookie. You may ask why that is. It’s simple. I pretty much never reward for walking on leash if the dog is already walking politely on leash. Both Brady and Camm came to me at a year or more older and already walked politely on leash. Ditto with Betty more recently. I reward far more for walking close to me, checking in with me, or recalling to me, when my dogs are off leash.

After walking a little way with Youke and Brady on leash, and Youke clearly relying on Brady walking on his blindside, I unclipped them, but Youke seemed to feel more comfortable after his misadventure to be leashed for this walk. Brady went back to pestering me for cookies every 30 to 50 feet, so he was clipped back on leash too, and as we neared the end of the trailhead, Betty surprised me by slowing down to walk beside me which I took as a sign she was fine with being leashed then too. I spent the last quarter mile of our short walk walking casually back to The LRoW with the three dogs’ leashes loosely held in my hand.

Just strolling with the oldies. And Betty.