“Reggie, it’s too early for a walk. Can’t you wait until it warms up a bit?”
Las Vegas Bay Campground
Bridget and Reggie had a quick potty run at daybreak, followed by breakfast. As is their routine after breakfast, they burrowed under the tangle of quilts and comforter to sleep off the meal. Bridget quickly became a mound of warm snooze.
Not Reggie. He squirms out of the covers and jumps in my face.
He’s spring-loaded for action!
“Okay, okay, be still so I can get your suit on you.”
I suit him up and clip on the tether. Before sneaking out the door, I check on the Bridge. She’s still snoring softly. Nothing would convince her to join us now. She’s a smart one, ol’ Bridge.
The campground is asleep.
Reggie is ecstatic. He trots in front of me, pausing now and then to sniff and mark bushes.
We follow the road that takes us away from the sleepy campers to the end of a spit of land.
At one time this was a peninsular reaching into the bright blue water of Lake Mead.
The blue is gone, replaced by brown and tan — dirt, sand, rocks and rubble — and the dusty green of scrub and creosote bushes scattered here and there.
I squint into the sun through the oleander bushes. The remains of the lake lie in defeat at the foot of a distant mountain.
I speed up our pace to keep warm. I should’ve put on my jacket.
The tether goes taut behind me.
“C’mon, Reg! We’ll come back later and you can sniff every bush then.”
A man and a small boy are several yards behind us. They’re bundled up in jackets and knit caps.
The road goes into a loop like the end of a sewing needle. Soon we’re walking toward the man and the boy.
Reggie runs to greet them. He reaches the end of his tether and strains against it, standing on his back legs, tail wagging with excitement.
The man and the boy stop a few feet in front of Reggie.
The boy, about four years old, is rigid, hands at his sides, big brown eyes watching Reggie. A faint hint of a smile tugs at his mouth.
“He’s a little skittish around dogs,” the man explains.
I step forward to allow Reggie to be close enough to sniff the boy’s pant leg.
The boy smiles. Reggie playfully hops away and skitters in circles, putting on a show.
“What’s the dog’s name?” the man asks.
“Reggie.”
Reggie runs in arcs around us. “Look at him go! He’s so excited to see you!” I exclaim.
Reggie runs to the boy and looks up at him.
“You can pet him if you want. He likes that.”
The boy reaches down and Reggie scampers away.
“Oh, he’s playing games with you.”
All the time the boy says nothing.
Apparently nothing needs to be said. Reggie returns to the boy and stands next to his sneakers. He wags his tail at top speed and wiggles his butt. His happy eyes look upward to the boy.
The man and I wait. The boy reaches down to pet Reggie’s head and Reggie lets him for a second, then licks his hand. The boy squeals with surprise and delight.
Reggie takes off at a brisk pace toward home and I step lively behind him, tether stretched out in front of me.
I glance over my shoulder.
The boy stands with his hand lifted in a tentative wave.
“Bye! See ya’ later,” I call out to him while returning the wave not meant for me.
“Reggie, you sweet boy. You’re a love ambassador!”
rvsue
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