Walking the Dog

My wife and I are lucky enough to have a house with a yard with some bushes and a few small trees growing in it. We bought the house with the understanding that the yard would become part of our lives, that we would tend it and benefit from it. 

The showpiece yard we moved into has morphed into a jungle landscape, however. And while so far I've killed at least two trees, the shag of weeds that has grown over ever visible feature is immutable. At times I wonder what we've done, whether we can manage it.

And then I realize that that's true of most things we put in motion--buying property to tend, starting a career, adopting a pet, having a child--it's impossible to know if you'll be able to keep pace with the wheel as it's rolling down the hill.

One more chore that I love but hate is walking the dog. Also immutable, the little monster is genetically designed to store and release energy. She stores it during the day, while we're at work, and then releases it when we return home. If it isn't fully expended by bedtime, which it never is, then she wakes us up in the night to play. So walking her is essential to her and our happiness. Add one more item to the list. 

One day we'll have a kid, or maybe two, and the degree of immutability of that endeavor makes me wonder at the contemporaries of mine who have taken it on. How do they do it? And more importantly, why? 

For that matter, why adopt a dog only to have to walk her every day or suffer the consequences. Maybe the answer be as simple as observing that when wheels aren't rolling they spin in circles and then eventually fall flat.