There’s a moment every morning when Petal decides the day has officially begun. It usually involves a stretch, a very serious shake, and then her appearing beside me just staring deep into my sole: that stare is the joys of a herding breed wanting something from me. So it's time for me to get my shoes on and go for a walk! And be fully judged the entire time I out my shoes on for how long it takes!
I used to think the walk started when we stepped out the front door. Now I know it starts a few minutes earlier, with a couple of small checks that make the whole outing easier for both of us. Especially in Auckland, where a spring morning can be chilly, damp, windy and sunny within the same ten minutes. The weather has commitment issues.
The first thing I check is Petal herself. Is she bright and acting normally? Is she moving comfortably when she gets up? I watch her take a few steps around the house before I put her gear on. It’s not a dramatic inspection, just a quick way of noticing whether she seems like her usual self. Dogs are very good at pretending everything is fine and corgis in particular are prone to early onset arthritis and hip/elbow dysplasia so those ordinary little observations matter.
Then I check her collar and lead. I look at the stitching, clips and attachment points, and make sure everything is sitting comfortably rather than twisted. It takes seconds, but it’s much better to discover a loose clip in the hallway than halfway around a busy Auckland park. I also make sure I can fit two fingers comfortably between Petal’s collar and her neck. Secure is important so it can't come off over her head but also too tight is not it.
Spring is also when I think a bit more carefully about what Petal is wearing, in Auckland it is our wettest season. Some mornings only need a quick dry-off after the walk, while others call for an extra layer. If it’s cold or particularly miserable outside, I’ll choose a coat that lets her move freely without rubbing around her chest or shoulders. A coat should help a dog feel comfortable, not turn them into a tiny, slightly annoyed sleeping bag.
Fit matters more than fashion here, although I’m obviously never going to complain about a cute outfit. I check that Petal can walk, sit, turn and sniff without anything pulling or bunching. If she looks uncomfortable, keeps trying to wriggle out of it, or her movement changes, it’s not the right fit for that walk.
I also have a quick look at the route before we leave. After heavy rain, some tracks can be slippery or muddy, and certain paths are better saved for another day. In Auckland, I’m especially mindful of puddles and standing water after a downpour with a low riding corgi. Petal would happily investigate every suspicious puddle in the region, but I don’t always know what’s been washed into it, so sometimes the answer is a cheerful “not today” and a change of direction.
Finally, I grab the boring but essential things: poo bags, a few treats, and prepare a towel at the door if the sky looks suspicious. I’ve accepted that a clean dog is a temporary condition, particularly when Petal has access to wet grass.
None of this takes long. It’s probably two or three minutes, but it helps me start the walk feeling prepared instead of discovering problems as we go. More importantly, it means I’m paying attention to Petal before we rush into the fun part.
The walk itself is still the best bit. Petal gets to sniff, explore and make important decisions about which tree requires the longest possible investigation. I get fresh air, a clearer head, and another reminder that dogs are much better at enjoying the present moment than most of us are.
So before you grab the lead tomorrow, take a minute to check your dog, their gear and the conditions outside. It might not look like much, but those tiny habits can make your walks safer, calmer and more enjoyable for both ends of the lead.
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