Bad Mother Goose

       With the end of my nature month quickly approaching, I asked a few outdoorsy friends if they might be able to take me hiking in the mountains. Although no one was able to schedule it in time, one friend suggested a walk in the park near her home. There were a number of goslings there, she said, that were too cute to miss.
       We scheduled our walk for the morning, and I told my friend I would not be bringing Olympia.
       The fact is that Olympia is not a walk-in-the-park kind of dog. Rather, we have raised her to be a city dog. She has joined us at five-star hotels and at art gallery openings. Her idea of a good time is a trip to the dog-friendly mall in the suburbs.
       Don’t get the idea though that she is one of those prissy little dogs who wears sweaters and is carried around in a purse. She is a slim 55 lbs and is shaggy, with a huge waggy tail. And although we go on four walks every day, any extra nature she gets tends to be from meandering between the dried flowers at Pier One, or sniffing the fruit-scented products at Bath and Body Works.
       But my friend looked at me like I was insane. “We’re going for a walk in the park," she said. "Of course you should bring Olympia with you."  She added that she would be looking after a doggy friend of Olympia’s for the day, and the dogs could hang out together.
       So of course I brought Olympia with me.
       Sure enough we saw dozens of goslings, as we walked the path around a small lake. Some of the goslings were little yellow newborn chicks. Others were slightly older – now grey, but still small and fuzzy. Others were older still – their long legs and neck making them slightly gawky. My friend remarked that it was virtually a lesson in the life cycle of geese.
       The two dogs made no attempts to chase the little creatures. But even so, the mother geese stood guard and hissed at us as we passed. I watched as one rounded up her wandering baby chicks into a tiny area close to her before she turned to glare at us. Another shooed her little ones into the lake. It was wonderful to see these protective and motherly instincts at work.
       As we continued around the lake though, my own shaggy gosling was getting hot and tired. Olympia started pulling on her leash toward shady areas under the trees. I had brought a bag of ice cubes, and fed them to her one after the other. But she remained obviously uncomfortable. The other dog, on its extended leash, leapt in and out of the cool water in a nearby creek, but Olympia would not set paw into the running water, no matter how much we coaxed her.
       My friend pointed out some birds to me, but it was getting hard to pay attention. Olympia’s tongue -- purplish now, instead of its usual pink -- was hanging out and her fur looked droopy. I gave her the rest of the ice cubes and let her lick the water out of the bag that had held them...
       We all eventually made it back to my friend's home. When we got inside, my friend apologized. But it was not her fault at all.

       I was the one who had known better. I felt like a bad mother goose, for failing to protect the wonderful furry chick who relies on me for everything.