Shop or Walk?

It was a beautiful spring day, albeit an unusually muggy one, which is so not good for curly hair. The other day I went to a new hairdresser for a slight trim and ended up getting bushwhacked. And so, coupled with the humidity, I'm currently sporting a less-than-flattering Afro. Attractive on Beyonce maybe, not so much on me.

Which is why I felt the rare need to go shopping, a task that I normally eschew. I wanted to pick up a new lip gloss, maybe a new top, earrings or burqa. Anything to make me feel better about this rat's nest that I'm stuck with for the next few weeks.

But in grabbing my car keys and heading toward the garage, I did something I shouldn't have done: I made eye contact with Olivia.

Big mistake.

Immediately she jumped up from her pillow and began dancing in circles around me, bursting with joy at the prospect of a walk. When I tried ignoring her, she started doing her playful downward dog position, bony butt in air and long skinny tail spinning like a helicopter propeller. I had to admit, she looked pretty darned cute, but really, mama felt like a troll. Mama needed to feel good about herself. Mama needed a little retail therapy.

"Sweetheart," I said with just a teeny bit of guilt. "We'll go for a walk later, I promise." And I grabbed my purse and started to leave.

But then I thought about my playful dog who spends weekdays alone while I'm at the office. My adoring dog who lives and breathes for my presence. My sweet dog who asks for nothing but my company. My devoted dog who loves me unconditionally, bad haircuts and all. I looked at the light in her eyes, thrilled with the promise of a walk. With me.

I set down my purse, hung up my keys, and put on her leash. And as we began our three-mile walk it dawned on me that maybe mama didn't need retail therapy after all. Because it was a glorious sunny day and the park was bursting with spring flowers and falling cherry blossoms that floated through the air like pink snow. Olivia was at my side, prancing with joy and looking up at me every now and then with happy, loving eyes.

Soon, I forgot about trivial things like bad haircuts. Instead, I was relishing this interlude with nature, this precious time with my dog. And I was feeling pretty good.

Turned out my solution wasn't retail therapy, but "tail" therapy--something Olivia was happy to provide.