January 22nd, 2020
Walking Bailey at 6:15 am in the morning at -32 degrees Celsius was well-worth it. Once we crossed over to the corner by the playground, I noticed my girl sniffing what looked to be a chocolate bar wrapper. I was just about to say “Leave It” when I saw the Queen (Elizabeth II that is) staring up at me. It was a crisp, brand-spanking-new twenty dollar bill. Much better than a penny, I thought. Ownership was mine. It pays to have a slow waddling Newfoundland dog who sniffs as we move up the street. Unlike the quick pace of a retriever or husky, my girl takes her time. Any attempts to hurry her along are high-jacked if Bailey catches a whiff of a tantalizing scent – usually, another dog. My feet cool at subzero temperatures so she can get her mental stimulation fix. I benefit as well from the slow pace. I notice the shape of the moon more than I did before Bailey. I like to hear the snow crunch under my feet. The little things come into my view. Today, it paid off.
It’s not like I never found money before while out with my girl. Just last September, Bailey and I were returning back from an early morning walk. A large tent often seen at beer gardens had been erected by the Town to shelter school children waiting for the buses in the large field across from our house. The Town was undertaking an infrastructure construction project as the old water and sewer lines were being replaced. Buses could not go down the street because the road was torn up so a new main bus stop was created. The tent’s sides were not tied back as they normally were. They had been untied and pulled across to keep the wind out and hide what had gone on inside the tent the night before. As I neared the tent, one of the flaps was caught by the wind. I saw something on the grass inside. The two of us moved closer. It was not just one thing but, many objects lying there. Soon, I could see that the bus stop cover had reverted back to its usual function as a beer party tent. Empty bottles were scattered under the tent. It was a gold mine. Out came the extra grocery bags used to collect Bailey’s poop and in went the bottles – 3 bags worth. But, that wasn’t all. Three new twenty dollar bills (probably just out of the bank machine) lay at my feet. Payment for my clean-up efforts. How considerate of the tent party-goers!
I don’t think it is likely that my money-finding will ever cover the cost of having Bailey. Dogs, like children, are expensive. The real payoff is the time spent enjoying our lives together.