Little pleasures

This morning we took a longer-than-usual walk right at the time when the kids of the middle school near our house were all flocking to the building.

I love seeing kids walking to school accompanied by their parents, especially their dads. This morning, one dad had a very large husky on a leash and was herding about six rowdy boys to school. Very cute.

A grandfather was walking his two grandchildren and they were all three laughing and enjoying the walk. Totally cute, too.

Many moms walk their kids to school and they do so in posses, with a few toddlers walking ahead of them while the moms push several large strollers at the same time that they manage a dog or two on leashes. That feat always makes me smile.

The morning is pleasanter-than-usual here, with temperatures in the low 60s and that fall-ish, slow-rising sun that tells me summer is nearing its end. And you can't hear a single cicada buzzing, only the birds chirping and the slight rustle of the cool breeze brushing against the trees.

Sometimes, when I see a child walking alone (some seem to me as young as 5 or 6), I'll follow the kid to school (on the other side of the street and without them knowing).

I wouldn't let my middle-school kid walk alone to school. I just wouldn't be able to live with myself if he or she got kidnapped or molested or God forbid what else. No matter how close we lived to the school.

There's this one little girl with long dark hair who carries a violin case. I like walking "with her" because she reminds me of my gorgeous violin-playing niece. I like to think I could do that for my niece, although she is too far and now too grown (in her teens) to want or warrant my vigilance.

I often follow such kids to the school's crosswalk and then I turn and continue my travels with the dogs.

There used to be an elderly woman who walked alone, too, and I saw her often in my morning walks. She was almost bent to one side and obviously walked with difficulty but she covered a good distance each day.

I used to follow her, too, some winter days, when the sidewalks were icy, just to make sure that if something happened to her, I would be near to help.

I haven't seen her in a long, long time. The last time I saw her she had a distracted look and was sitting besides what must have been a relative, who was speaking to her in a patient, low voice, in the porch of her house. She looked so frail and so ancient. I miss seeing her now.

The dogs and I also have our fellow dog-walkers and dogs-in-yards who greet us and know us because they see us so often. Geni particularly likes a big black dog that barks at her and runs back and forth on his yard whenever he sees her. Rusty, of course, is completely uninterested.

A little white poodle, Mickey, is a favorite of ours. He stands back in his yard until we've passed and then he rushes at the fence of his house and barks and barks and barks and I can hear him when we're already half-a-mile away. He's very funny, pretending to be a brave dog.

A few of the kids we see on our morning journey praise the dogs and some even ask if they can pet them. I always feel bad saying "No, they're not friendly." The kids' faces say it all: "How can such a cute dog not be friendly?"

But, like most of life's hardest lessons, that's one that kids must learn quickly and well. Not all dogs, like not all people, are friendly. That's why I like it so much when I see the kids accompanied by someone who loves and cares for them.

And when they're not, I like to think that I'm doing a good thing by walking a little ways with them.