Day 18 Neighbor; I Don't Even Know Your Name

I am being walked by an 8 month old puppy
Sneaking it in before the last bit of sunset sinks behind the eucalyptus trees.
She is pulling and protesting in equal measure
I am in a hurry to get home 

It is not a safe time to be out
Desperately I try to assert myself. 

Dinner smells spew from the houses we pass.
I am suddenly famished.
Windows frame recliners
Tipped back feet up
Televisions with split screens flashing FOX news. 

"Fixed News", that's what Gramps called the station. 
Its my husband go to.
He had a nickname for all of his political rivals in the most recent Bush administration.
He wrote poetry, limericks about their role in the demise of our nation.

Gramps, in your wildest dreams 
You couldn't have imagined this election cycle
If only I could hear your nicknames for these two  
It would be the best part in an otherwise dark process. 

Nicknaming: that is something you two have in common
My husband's nicknaming extends far beyond the politician 
He is probably home by now 
He and our neighbor "Biff" are probably watching the same show.

I am close to tears 
Cursing under my breath.
Tugging 
Redirecting (just like the trainer instructed)
My back and shoulders protest with a biting ache.

This walk, like my life 

The worst parts are the unknown:
The uncontrollable pulling!
Opposing desires dragging me to the edge of my comfort zone
Threatening to remove a limb or maybe just repeatedly crush my heart.