I love a good walk. There’s no better way to start my day — well, after some coffee and time on the deck. Penny is always game. She doesn’t much care where we go just as long as we’re not in a rush. And that is the core of a good walk: time.

For Penny, it means time to follow her nose. Same bush, new smell? New bush, same smell? She lingers, meanders off-trail in search of what, I don’t know. Within minutes, the dirt path draws me to the woods. Is that a newly fallen tree? My eyes rest on freshly torn bark, the sign of a bear in search of grubs. I check for Penny. Mule ear leaves crackle. She makes her way, s l o w l y back to the path. And as though shocked by a taser, suddenly she is running toward me, full-speed.

There is nothing more joyful than a dog off-leash. She slows to a happy trot, tail high and waving. She knows her way through the trees to the reservoir. We’ll stand at the water’s edge together; she’s on alert, waiting. I am silent, lost in the dimpled surface, the sun shining on grassy reeds.

We instinctively turn together toward home.