The dreams of a dog walker

An old school friend of mine writes a blog about what she sees and thinks about when walking her dog. If you’re not a dog person, you might not understand the whole dog-walking thought train, but if you are and regularly walk a dog, you’ll probably recognise the feeling.

I’ve taken to walking Wesley every evening after Eleanor’s gone to sleep and while Chris reads to Rosemary. It’s usually a half hour walk, or round-about – to the edge of town and back. It’s a half hour to think about whatever I want to, which is weird, scary, empowering and all kinds of words like that.

Sometimes I use it to run over things that have happened during the day. If I’ve shouted at the girls, I might be thinking about what I could have done differently to prevent that. If some work has gone badly, I might be thinking about how to fix it the next day. I quite often have arguments with people – Chris, clients, the girls, random shopkeepers or car drivers – who have wound me up during the day and tell them what I wish I’d said then. And every now and again I congratulate myself on what went well – getting out the door in the morning on time and with no shouting from anyone, meeting a deadline – or three – spending quality time with Chris, making a nice meal, booking in a new job, getting lots of hits on a blog post…

But mostly what I do is dream. I make up scenarios, usually about our life and future. I don’t think there’s anything especially new or different about these fantasies or dreams. They frequently centre on winning some money on the lottery (just a £500,000 Thunderball win, nothing outrageous like a Euromillions rollover, mind), or getting a huge advance for that novel I still haven’t finished writing. But sometimes they’re slightly smaller scale, like working out a blog redesign, imagining how to move the furniture around in the bedroom, picturing myself sewing up all those clothes that need fixing. OK, so they may well be as unlikely as the lottery win.

And then I picture us living in one of the houses I pass on my walk. One of the big houses that would probably require a lottery win, and quite possibly one bigger than that Thunderball. There are a few contenders, but there’s one in particular, right at the edge of town. It’s quite big, though not outrageously so. It looks like it would comfortably house a big family – in fact, I have a feeling the Bennets would have been quite at home there. It has arched sash windows and a big arched door. A walled garden. An annexe that would make a perfect office, or studio, There’s a driveway and quite possibly a paddock, though that’s just a guess.

I have no idea what it looks like inside, but I have a very clear picture in my head. The large kitchen, with the huge scratched wooden table, double range, scruffy but cosy sofa, dresser full of tea pots and large mugs, hanging rack draped in copper pans. The utility room with the muddy boots cluttering the corner and coats hanging by the door. The lounge with the roaring wood fire, flanked by walls of books, and the large mirror reflecting the dark red walls and floral wallpaper. The playroom strewn with wooden toys and Lego and train sets and kitchens and garages and blackboards – walls papered with bright and colourful pictures…

I’ve even gone knocking on the door to ask if it’s for sale – in my head, of course – and had the fortuitous conversation with the woman who’s splitting up with her husband and so has to sell the beautiful house they’ve lived in for eight years. I’ve gone and sat in her kitchen and drunk tea and sympathised and chatted about the coincidence that we’re both children’s book illustrators (in addition to my thriller-writing career, of course, which has provided the funds to enable me to come knocking on her door). I’ve moved in with all the family and had parents from school come round for tea and even drinks. I’ve seen Wesley running around in the walled garden, finally happy to wander without having to bark at passing dogs.

Some people set the world to rights while walking the dog – solving the economy problems, ending war and famine… some people meditate… some people watch the skies and the trees and nature… and some people spend huge amounts of money furnishing houses that are far too big for their family.

Hmm… that does make it sound bad. But there we go, that’s what I do. When I’m not writing a chapter of my novel or a blog post, that is.