Nearly every morning I drive past an elderly gentleman from the assisted living community walking his equally elderly shelties on the sidewalk. Near as I can tell, they make a daily morning expedition back and forth to a 7-11 convenience store about a tenth of a mile away. On of the shelties is tan and white, and the other is a tri-color. Even in hot weather the man wears a tan and brown herringbone patterned hat that is some sort of cross between a fedora and a bucket cap. He walks stooped and slowly, but apparently makes good time. His shelties shuffle along side of him, not quite walking at heel but well mannered enough to leave some slack in the leashes. Unlike hounds, the Shelties walk with heads held high, taking in the sights of the passing traffic and the children on their way to the elementary school a block the other direction. It's passed my mind more than once that these dogs seemed to be looking out for their master, who does walk nose to ground, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings.
Monday morning when I saw them there was just the man and the tan and white sheltie. I briefly wondered, but figured that even dogs needed the occasional morning off. This morning I passed them again, just the man and one dog. A little part of my soul mourns for a dog who briefly brightened more than his masterâs life.