Harnessing the Power of Breeze

Some people pay good money to sit in steamy rooms and call it “self-care.” Here in the South, we just open the front door before sunrise and get it for free.

From April through August, the temperature is already flirting with 80 before the roosters start crowing—and the humidity? Rick says he showers, steps outside, and needs another one.

So we like to walk the dogs as early as we can.

During the week I work, and since I work from home, I start early to get done early. Rick takes the big dog for a walk in town on those days. Breeze is a big, active dog who needs those walks as much as Rick does. Rick doesn’t get the zoomies in our yard — spinning donuts, throwing dust up with his feet — without them, though. Breeze does.

On the weekend, we take Breeze and Benny, the smaller but younger and quite energetic bundle of coarse fur, to either Lake Fayette or Monument Hill for a longer walk. Monument Hill has a variety of trails, scenic areas, and historic features. It also offers annual passes, which makes visiting easier. Lake Fayette is cooler because there is nearly always a soft—or less soft—wind blowing off the water. But the trails aren’t as nice, and payment is required each visit—no passes. The dogs love those smells of the water life, though!

Breeze and Benny get really excited each morning in anticipation of their walk. First, we have coffee. Then Rick feeds them breakfast. As soon as that’s over, they start bouncing like Tigger as they follow whichever of us is not sitting down. Obviously, we’re about to get in the pickup! They whine outside our bedroom door while we change out of pajamas and brush our teeth. After we finish that (come on, Mom, come on, come on!) little necessity, they run back and forth—door to us, us to door—until we finally put on Benny’s harness and head onto the porch, where there’s more spinning and dancing while we put on leashes.

Honestly, I’m too exhausted to walk now!

Then unbridled excitement as we walk to the truck and get in. Here’s where Breeze gets really helpful. Apparently, in her tiny brain, if she whines loud enough we will get there faster. So she works as hard as she can to speed the process along.

I’ve tried to explain to Breezles that, no, hybrid doesn’t mean part whine and part bark. This is a gas-and-electric situation, not some canine fuel blend. She stares at me, clearly deciding I’m not trying hard enough—and cranks up the volume.

We do make it to our destination (thanks to Breeze?) and have a lovely time.

The drive home is blessedly quieter. Breeze, having fully expended her whine reserves, collapses into satisfied silence. Benny, still young and spring-loaded, stays bouncy but calm. I haven’t noticed whether the pickup takes longer without all that Breeze power — but it’s definitely more peaceful.

And then, the next day, it all starts over. The bouncing. The spinning. The urgent pacing from bedroom to door and back again. Tigger and the rambunctious crew, raring to go. We load up once more — and Breeze will make sure we don’t run out of that vital whine-power.