Travels with Kit

When I first adopted Kit, a medium-sized rescue mutt who resembles a fox, I did what all new dog owners do. I took her to the dog park. She needs to be socialized, everyone had instructed. I imagined Kit frolicking happily with the other dogs as I stood with their owners sharing anecdotes about our pooches and making new friends.

Our first visit to the dog park, however, was a serious bust. Kit had zero interest in other dogs. Instead, she jumped on a picnic table, cozied up to the nearest human, and growled down at any dog who tried to get her to play.

After a few more attempts to get Kit to mix it up with her own kind, I gave up on the dog park and tried walking her in historic Oakdale Cemetery just around the corner from my house. But as we walked down the grassy paths past grave markers and monuments, the poor dog was clearly bored out of her mind.

Finally, in desperation, I hauled Kit into my car and drove her downtown to walk along the river. This, it turned out, was just what she’d been longing for. But it wasn’t the undulating Cape Fear River or views of the Battleship North Carolina that drew Kit. It was the chance to mix it up with people. Because humans have two things she loves: physical affection and treats.

It wasn’t long until we established a routine. I park at the foot of Ann Street, grab poop bags from the handy dispenser, then Kit and I head north on the Riverwalk. After dozens of sniffs at The Pilot House and Elijah’s, we make our first stop: a river tour office where Sara gives Kit both a lot of love and a treat. Sara’s a student at Cape Fear Community College where I teach, so I ask her how school’s going, then follow Kit, who, having wolfed down his milk bone, is already on the march to our next stop.

More sniffs, then we stop at the outdoor ice cream stand across from Anne Bonny’s. Kit jumps on the half door until the teenager working the stand gets the message, and Kit gets his second treat in five minutes. I know Kit is overweight. The vet keeps telling me, but wouldn’t it be cruel to deny her these simple pleasures?

Then, we’re off again. Kit taking a glance towards the information booth near the corner of Water and Front streets, but since we’re usually walking in the early evening, it’s already closed, so no snack there.

Eventually, we leave the Riverwalk and turn right at The Cotton Exchange, then right again on Front Street. If it’s early enough, we pop into Old Books on Front Street where Gwenyfar, the owner, showers Kit with love, and she and I catch up for a few minutes about how business has been, what’s going on at CFCC, and any other news of the day. Gwenyfar has been generous enough to host my creative writing students’ end of the semester readings, and she’s one of Kit and my favorite people. When Gwenyfar gets busy with customers, Kit and I take our leave, but not before Gwenyfar calls after us with her signature catchphrase: “Think good thoughts.”

By this point, Kit pulls hard on the leash. She’s on a mission to get to the little grocery store on the next block since she knows they have a basket of free dog treats just inside the front door. As adamant as she is to get there, if the basket is empty, which is about every third visit, Kit takes the disappointment in stride and trots out the door and back to the sidewalk without an ounce of resentment.

After Kit stops to slurp from the water dish under their sidewalk sign, we make our last stop, Cape Fear Beer and Wine. In the last few months, we’ve become regulars at the dark little bar on Front Street. As ’80s punk and new wave plays, the female bartender gives a Kit treat. While I chat with some of the other regulars, Kit does her little butt wag dance and hops on the other patrons, eventually making friends with just about everyone in the place.

I’m not the first to notice what amazing social lubricators dogs are. I’m shy by nature, so I would never meet so many people if I came without Kit. Kit’s overtures lead to chats with the other customers about their dogs or what breed Kit is or college basketball or any number of topics. On pinball night, I do my best to keep Kit from disrupting the games, but generally, everyone seems happy Kit’s there.

After I pay my tab and Kit and I head back to the car, it’s usually getting dark, and the sidewalks are filled with people. We make our way back to the Riverwalk and, if we’re lucky, catch a glorious sunset over Cape Fear River. Before I got Kit, I’d probably walked the Riverwalk a dozen times, but since she came into my life, it now numbers in the hundreds.

I’m grateful for another little adventure with Kit. I feel like Henry David Thoreau who wrote in Walden that he’d “traveled a good deal” in his sleepy little town of Concord, Massachusetts. I’ve learned you can do the same in our own little town. And those travels are even better with the right companion.

Dylan Patterson is a writer and filmmaker who teaches English at Cape Fear Community College. Mark Weber is a Wilmington-based artist and illustrates WILMA’s monthly Direct Male essay weberillustration.com

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