I walked my dogs today; therefore, today I rock!

I currently live in suburbia.

Lawns are green and (usually) mowed and landscaped. Houses are fairly large and painted in various shades of unoffensive blue, gray, and tan. Streets and sidewalks are wide and litter-free. We have big trees here in Monticello that cast a pleasant pattern of shade over the city's older neighborhoods.

My family erodes the mold in some ways. We don't really break it outright; we're a bit more subtle. For instance, our house is blue, but it's a kind of blue that your eyes actually register as a color. It's the shade of the Caribbean in the evening. Our house has a red door. We have grape vines and hops growing like crazy all over our backyard fence. The number of trees growing in the aforementioned backyard may be considered completely inappropriate by some.

Well, whatever. We like trees, though they do make the yard kind of a pain to mow...in any case, as I mentioned earlier, Monticello has a fair number of relatively large trees. The same cannot be said for its population of dogs. Based on my informal census of the local canine population, it can be said that four out of every five dogs in Monti are small (less than 20 pounds, or less than 9.0718474 kilograms for the metric users out there). Most of the resident large dogs are overweight Labradors.

Here again my family goes against the grain. We have big dogs. Mesquite, our rescued Akita mix, is around 70 pounds and easily offended. And the one dog that we own who isn't big makes up for his lack of size with heaps of pure crazy - Roo is a two-year-old Border Collie. Whenever you find a breed description for Border Collies, it will contain advice like this: either exercise your dog for two hours a day, or prepare to live your life without pillows.

When I first adopted Mesquite a few years ago, I used to envy the dog owners out there who had tiny dogs. Most Pomeranians and Jack Russells would, like Mesquite, bark and lunge at passers-by, but their owners could just keep walking because their dogs' weight equaled that of a few deflated footballs. I, however, would suffer rope burns and a completely shattered sense of dignity due to Mesquite's need to TELL those *%$#^&' ELDERLY PEDESTRIANS to GET OFF OUR *&*%%$** SIDEWALK!!!

(Mesquite's kind of gansta.)

It's true that Mesquite's behavior has slightly mellowed as she's aged, but it's my perspective on dog-walking that is really different from what it once was. Now I ownthe craziness that makes up our walks. I can only imagine how Mesquite, Roo, and I must look to these tiny terriers and their owners; we must look like Doom marching three abreast down the sidewalk. I have to tell you, I feel like freaking Artemis walking barefoot on the bike path, in my red gym shorts, flanked by 100 pounds of canine napalm (that's 45.359237 kilograms).

I can't be certain, but I'd venture a guess that most of Monticello's residents don't feel a poignant sense of accomplishment after walking their dog(s). Well, I do. Today's walk was a success because of these reasons:

1. Mesquite only growled at two people and one dog;
2. Roo only intimidated five people with his overflowing, enthusiastic affection;
3. I did not fall down;
4. Roo gave the evil eye to only one dog;
5. I received only seven mosquito bites;
6. No leash burn;
7. My legs received no scratches from doggie feet;
8. No dog feces got on to my hands!

Yes, I'm thankful for my crazy big dogs. I feel like a conqueror each time we return to the driveway. I may be generalizing, but I certainly doubt that any of the local small dogs afford their owners such adventurous outings into the suburban streets.