Walkie-Talkies.

Tonight, I cashed in my first metaphorical therapy-dog-chips of the season.

 I should probably explain: I haven't literally turned my dog into fries and then attempted to barter by using them as a grisly form of currency; I'm pretty sure that would result in a prison sentence. But I did use him as a therapeutic aid after an argument left me overwrought and overloaded, and definitely felt the benefit, with my four-legged friend (the dog) gaining in the process.

 Sometimes, a breath of fresh air is the best cure for what ails you and a dog-walk is the perfect excuse for this. I usually take Elwood out in the morning for an hour while my wife's at work and she'll do the evening dog-shift (careful how you spell that) but today I took him out twice, and that second walk was just what the doctor - or vet - ordered. One of the biggest advantages to walking him in the evening is I get to see the night skies I'd otherwise miss, and this is particularly the case when I cross the field behind where I live, where the lack of houses and minimal street lighting make for a less-obscured vista; the combination of the brisk evening air and the security that goes with having a big dog with you is a winning combination.

 If I hadn't had the excuse to get out I might have meditated, but probably wouldn't have shook off my ticking brain. As it was, being able to focus on him as he sniffed his way around Hitchin was the perfect form of mindfulness; I walked the streets for an hour or so, and by the time I got home my wife was back from visiting her sister after work, giving us time for a pleasant evening before my she took him out for another short walk before bed. Consequently, we all benefited, and Elwood most of all: I bet he thought he'd landed on his (four) feet.

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