By Mike Gordon
Advertiser Staff Writer

In the evenings, I walk the dog.

We leave after dinner and head for the park near my house. Daisy — that's my dog — walks fast and proud, head up. Her tail wags like a metronome. The leash is piano wire-tight.

Every few feet, there's something new to smell. It's like checking for doggy e-mail. At the park, we pass the tennis players and the stray cats. Sometimes we stop at the gym to see what all the squeaking shoes are about.

It's never boring.

Daisy has helped me understand a phrase I used to dismiss as hokey and trite: "man's best friend."

She's become a kindred spirit, and I think it's because dogs are more like guys than cats. Dogs are simple and really don't want to get bogged down in the details of life, like a cat would. I can relate to that.

A famous writer once said dogs are more about a good hello than a long goodbye. They like to have their tummy rubbed, revel in simple pleasures and know a good thing when they see it. Like men. Well, smart men.

This is not the case with cats. More often than not, cats are introspective, neurotic and unfriendly. I've known a few women like that.

These canine revelations have come as a surprise to me. I was not looking to become a dog owner at this point in my life.

I had grown up with dogs, but had not owned one since 1985. For years, though, my daughters begged me to get a dog.

I always said no. I had my reasons.

Dogs are too much work. Dogs chew furniture. Dogs bark. And let's not forget about what dogs leave behind when you take a walk. All those drooping plastic bags are not filled with bon-bons.

But in August, I gave in.

We found Daisy on death row at the humane society. No dummy, the dog formerly known as "417" wagged her tail instead of snarling like the rest of the Cujo wannabes.

Natural selection works in funny ways.

Daisy was an instant hit with everybody — except with the family cats.

Daisy was mellow, friendly and had very few annoying habits. And she was housebroken, too.

I was spoiled. Shoot, I was smitten.

Still, I wasn't sure about the walks. There was something about trailing behind a leashed dog that seemed, well, embarrassing.

Boy was I wrong.

Our nightly walk is relaxing. It's a tonic for a busy life and rarely feels like a chore. Man's best friend had a pretty good idea here.

We walk along together, Daisy and I, checking out the world around us. She sniffs the trees and I people-watch. The grass always feels soft underfoot, and on days when it is freshly cut, the scent reminds me of the walks I took with my boyhood dogs.

It could be easy to dash out and dash back home as quickly as possible. If we did that, though, we'd never get to smell the grass.

Reach Mike Gordon at mgordon@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8012.