Today was a really cold day. But no mind. Prozac, the Boston terrier, and I trekked our daily 30-minute walk anyway. Scarf, gloves, the whole bit. They--whoever "they" is; you never know--say that you do some exercise for two weeks, and it becomes something you need to do. I don't know about that part, but I can say in the 3+ weeks I've been making this daily walk, I do feel a lot better. Not sluggish. Not so resigned to the idea that I'll never be able to shed pounds again. As a matter of fact, as of this morning, I've dropped 8 pounds. Not just walking has done it. I've been limiting myself to 1,300 calories a day and have been religious about counting them.
Anyway, Prozac is always ready to go walking. Just the idea of it sets her aquiver. It's one of her two favorite things--excluding food, which is every dog's favorite thing--the other being going for a ride in the car. She gets really excited about the prospect of either. Which makes me think again about what dogs can teach us about how to approach life. Always stay in the now. Enjoy the enjoyable things. Stretch fully. Keep your loved ones close, and always keep to the left.