The Man Walking His Dog
I saw him most days, in the passing. A nod, a good morning.
Today, I stopped.
“Would you mind if I walked with you for a little while?”
John is in his sixties, 6’ 1” and his dog is a golden labrador. He’s married, two kids, both grown up and flown the nest and the country. One lives on the other side of the world in New Zealand, she’s getting married this year. He’s hoping Covid doesn’t stop him and his wife from being there.
His son lives halfway around the world in Dubai, a P.E. teacher, living an enviable life. John enjoyed talking about his grown-up children. He’s proud of them, but there is a sadness there too. For certain, he misses them.
He’s retired, a civil servant, he said. I’m not sure what that means. I probe a little. He took a step back from discussing it, deftly changed the subject and left me even more curious.
He’s a fit man. I could see that in the way he strides out, erect, marching almost. A hint at a disciplined life. I’m guessing he’s ex-army, or a retired police officer. He wouldn’t be pressed. Afterwards, I thought maybe secret service, a spy?
He had a keen intelligence and know-how. He could talk about news, books and politics — without making his views known. We brushed over Covid. Nothing much to be said. “It is what it is.”
We talked about his dog. He loves that dog and also resents it. Strange mixed feelings.
It wasn’t his choice to have a dog. His wife bought it on the understanding that she would walk it, feed it, pick up its shit. It didn’t happen. She still has a job, so it’s up to him. If he didn’t do it, the dog wouldn’t get more a than pee and poo in their back garden.
He has a strong sense of responsibility, duty even. Carried over from his career?
I dug for his motivations.
There was a sadness about him. I felt it when he went quiet, something on his mind. In between the pauses in our conversations. His wife? It’s not something you open up about to strangers. I asked anyway.
She’s alcohol dependent. Prone to mood swings. He told me how much she drinks, he’s kept a log. This week she has drank five bottles of white wine and a bottle of vodka.
She is drinking more than last year. He doesn’t drink in the house. It would give her an excuse to drink more. He has a beer if he is out with friends. That’s it.
I feel he has more to offer the world. He wants to contribute, he volunteers to help with the local choir and their Christmas concert. He wants to do more, but he feels tied, he has his dog duties. His father is ill on an island off the west coast of Scotland and he visits for a few days every two weeks, more than his siblings do.
My impression is he is a decent person, this man I see walking his dog every day. He has had a life and learned much. It is interesting to know what they have seen and done. His life is not an open book.
I ask this question a lot of people. I want to know what advice they would give their 18-year-old self. What big thing would they tell themselves to make their life better?
Some people have given it thought, others scrabble about in their brains for an answer, not really knowing. People have many angles. They can be funny or profound or both. Some just don't know.
“What advice would you give your 18-year-old self?” I asked.
“Don’t expect your whole life to be happy. There will be hard times and unhappy times, but know it won’t always be like that. You will get through them.”
About the Creator
Malky McEwan
Curious mind. Author of three funny memoirs. Top writer on Quora and Medium x 9. Writing to entertain, and inform. Goal: become the oldest person in the world (breaking my record every day).
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