I got a call from my husband on my way home from work tonight. We usually check in with one another in the afternoon just to make sure that we’re both running on schedule. I know it’s nice to get a call from the hubby asking how my day is going, but don’t be fouled. The hidden reason behind these thoughtful phone calls are to find out if we’ll be walking the dogs together… or alone. We usually get home at the same time, so we share the 30 minute stroll together. When there’s only one person to walk both dogs, not only do you not have company to make the walk go faster, but you have to handle two dogs.

As my husband delivers the message that he’s still at work and will be home late, the sense of resentment builds in my tone of voice. I’ve got to get off the phone quickly to prevent a low blow from slipping. “Hurry home.” Click.

Now I’m the one left to walk the dogs. Even on a warm day, this task is unwelcome thanks to our newst dog Barry. He’s not even new anymore. We’ve had him for more than 8 months. He’s just a hastle to walk. Bouncing around, wrapping the leash around my legs. Eating every stick he can find. Chasing cars passing by. Even more so when you’re handling two dogs. And to make it the worst combination possible: it’s the coldest day of the year. Today’s high was 7 degrees. It was a mere -6 on this morning’s walk. Bitterly cold Mother Nature.

So I was left to walk the dogs. And walk the dogs I did. Very quickly. I was still outside for a good ten minutes and I was only able to get one dog to poop, which means another trip outside for the other one to do its business. Burh! But that’s what you do for love. By the time he got home, I was warm again and had forgotten about the dreadful walk. He strategically avoided talking about how the walk went– smart move — and asked me about my day. All I could think about was how nice it is to come home to someone who cares (even if I have to endure a little frostbite every now and then).