Walking the dogs: a lesson in canine individualism

Martha and Aquinnah (photo by Priscilla Perry)

Dogs, like people, are individuals, each with its own personality and quirks. So it's not surprising that our duo, Martha and Aquinnah, have different walking styles, as I'm reminded every day on our jaunts through the neighborhood.

As the older of the two, Aquinnah, a purebred chocolate lab who will turn five in December, is the more sedate, well-mannered walker, although bicyclists upset him no end, and set him to barking. He likes to stroll ahead of me, but even at 85 pounds, he never pulls, nor does he turn around for instructions or guidance. He's a dog on a mission, sniffing his way through life, tail held high.

Aquinnah is ever-sensitive to verbal cues, though, and all I have to do is tell him when we’re going to cross the street, or which of two routes we will take, and he responds immediately. He is, presumably, unaware of his good looks and rich coloring, which often turn the heads of passing motorists.

Martha is something else entirely. A jet-black pit bull/lab mix with a white marking on her chest that looks like a drawing of a stick figure, she will celebrate her second birthday next month. Despite her long lab-like nose, she's more pit bull than lab in temperament. Martha is alert, eager and, at times, stubborn. She tries to take in everything at once, her head swiveling to and pro. She changes directions without warning, based on some indecipherable canine whim. When she is eager to return home, she pulls me down the street with remarkable strength for a 40-pound dog.

Periodically, Martha will turn around in mid stride to peer up at me for a second or two, as if to reassure herself that I’m still trudging along behind her. She’ll even stop dead in her tracks on occasion and wait for me to pat her side and tell her she’s a sweet girl before resuming her determined, but erratic, march.

Sometimes, the dogs and I seem to be operating at cross purposes. (“We’re going this way, Martha, not that way.” “Quinn, get your nose away from that dead squirrel.”) But in the end, the human-canine duo is a team, and we generally act accordingly, with a bit of give and take at both ends of the leash. As it should be.