I’m never less efficient than during walks with my dog. Sam is a very spoiled man and gets at least three walks a day, now split between my husband and I. He is part Australian Shepherd and therefore loves to herd. Due to the startling lack of sheep in suburban Nashville, he is forced to get creative with his talents. He routinely collects his toys into his bed (I call it nesting) and is constantly rolling his tennis balls around the house with his nose.
His herding tendencies manifest differently on walks. If more than one of his humans tries to walk him at once, he loses all control. He spins around our feet, leaving a tangled mess of his leash and lassoing us in his wake. When he isn’t circling, he darts in a serpentine pattern and lunges at tall strands of grass (for a mid-walk snack, obviously).
After a few initial attempts to journey together, we resolved to walk him one at a time. With just one of us, the herding stops and he is a perfect gentleman (mostly). He is a very quirky dog.
I read an article (read: watched a TikTok) about providing your dog with enrichment on walks. Instead of pulling them along the route, you’re supposed to allow them to sniff and choose their own adventure. Apparently, their heart rates skyrocket when on the trail of a good smell, suggesting their brains are stimulated and they are burning energy.
Implementing this practice with Sam has been a journey. He is incredibly strong for thirty pounds, and has almost dislocated my shoulder more times than I’d like to admit in the name of following a scent. Our walks take ages as he reroutes, backtracks and lingers on seemingly every blade of grass and flower at his eye level.
In the era of habit stacking, it is impossible to multitask while walking Sam. Sammy hates when we talk on the phone—in general but especially on walks. Attempts to do so are met with increased chaos, herding and barking as he tries to decipher who I’m speaking with and how to get them under his control.
So we can’t walk together and catch up, can’t talk on the phone, can’t listen to podcasts lest Sam decide to herd and get the cords all in a tangle. Due to the chaos, walks with Sam are the only time I truly step away from the constant stream of content and communication that is life in 2026.
Our spring walks have left me feeling more reflective on what I would miss if I were to multitask. I hardly ever do one thing at a time—podcasts keep me company during house chores and workdays, dinner prep and meals are spent working or yapping with my husband, TV time is accompanied by scrolling or trip planning or online shopping. Walks are a rare moment of just one shared mission.
Sam’s quirks prevent me from missing the way he turns his head back to smile at me mid-walk. If Sammy cooperated, I would miss watching the heron fly in and land in our pond for his afternoon fishing session, the new buds on our neighbor’s tree indicating the first signs of spring. I would miss the sounds of children playing when they get home from school and the satisfying pops of wiffleballs meeting pickleball rackets and the feel of the afternoon sun on my face. I would miss the opportunity to slow down, pray, reflect, and be. The chance to experience a rare deep breath. Maybe sometimes a little chaos is worth it to be firmly planted in the present moment.
Olivia graduated from Calvin in May 2018 with a double major in business and writing. She now works as an editor in Nashville, Tennessee and is eating her way through the restaurants of her new town. She enjoys weekend trips with friends, petting other people’s dogs, and drinking coffee like a Gilmore Girl.
