It’s winter. At 6 a.m. in winter it’s dark. And cold. The prevailing southerly wind, often accompanied by rain, whips up the valley towards our house. No snow, but sometimes frosts. Auckland’s ‘wet-cold’. It seems to get into your bones.

At 6 a.m. or thereabouts I head out. Dressed in multiple layers, woolly hat, and boots, with one hand on the lead. My walking companion, Finn, is highly enthusiastic about all this, tail wagging, rearing to go. ‘It’s the best time, Dad.’ Or so he tells me.

We do this day in and day out. It’s like a morning prayer. A walk in the dark, with often some light on the horizon as we return.

Some mornings Finn kind of canters; there’s a spring in his step, head held high, tail bouncing. I don’t think the same could be said about me. Not that I’m grumpy you understand, just waking up.

We meet others out on the road. There are a number of regulars. With dogs in tow. Though sometimes the dogs are doing the towing. We humans on occasion nod to each. An act of solidarity. Rarely, if ever, are words spoken.

Though I did utter a word the other day.

There’s this lab who lives down the hill, frisky fellow, who pulls his human this way and that. Anyway, as the fates would have it, we were walking behind said lab and his human on their way down the hill. On the opposite side of the road, but still.

Lab, catching Finn’s scent, was all over the place. Highly interested in what was coming up behind him. Pulling in all directions except forward down the hill. Whereas the human, as we humans do, was trying to exercise some control. Without much success. Finally, exasperated, the human just had to stop and wait until we’d walked past.

Wanting to acknowledge his struggle, I simply said “Sorry.” And he replied, “That’s ok.” As you do.

I knew this lady once. Had one of those big jobs in the city. Well-known and often in the media. And, less well-known, she had a dog. A really big dog. One that didn’t like other dogs, or cats, or strangers, and made his dislike known. (He could do a decent growl!) Yet a dog that needed walking.

So, yes, you guessed it, she was up walking big growl long before dawn or anyone else arose. In rain, frost, or biting wind. Whatever the weather, in the dark, they walked.

There’s a lot said and written about how dogs can be a human’s best friend. Good companions. Intuitively comforting. Delightfully playful. All of which is true.

But there’s another side to it too. It’s called commitment. And I see it every morning in the dark. In rain, frost, or biting wind. Humans committed to dogs.

Relationships require commitment.

And, of course, its not just the relationships of human to animal that require commitment. But adult to child, spouse to spouse (partner to partner), grandparent to grandchild, friend to friend. Commitment whatever the weather.

Glynn

(Image: Mikita Yo, Unsplash)