Maria and Fate and Zinnia and I walked together on a country road. After a while Fate and Maria planned to break off to walk in the woods; we’re keeping Zinnia out of the woods until she gets her final shots Monday afternoon.

Today was my fourth walk with Zinnia. It began with a twist, literally – I sept in a big ice hole and fell, twisting my troublesome knee. It was more embarrassing than dangerous, but it was a while before I could get up.

A kind man in an SUV pulled over and jumped out of the car and ran to me, perhaps thinking I needed an ambulance.

I didn’t. I got up with Maria’s help.

I prefer to be the rescuer, not the victim.

It was an unnerving fall, stepping into a big and icy hole that collapsed under me was frightening, but then I got up and walked it off a bit. My knee had taken the brunt of it.

I worried for a minute that I was losing my balance – I very rarely fall, but in my therapy work with the dogs I see the consequences of falling almost every day.

But when I looked at the deep hole (it was covered by a layer of snow), I realized anybody could have fallen that way.

Like a lot of older people, I sometimes worry about the line between life and aging. I always want to be able to walk my dogs and hike the country roads.

Maria and Fate went on into the woods and Zinnia and I resumed our walk.

Because I was hobbling a bit, I took Zinnia off-leash and decided to trust her on the walk back.

It was a beautiful walk after the fall, affirming and connecting and healing in its way. Zinnia stayed close to me, exploring the woods along the side of the road, coming whenever I called her.

As we got to a vast open field, Zinnia turned to me, as if to ask permission to head for the pond forming from the melted snow.

“Go on,” I said, smiling at the sight of this small dog in this vast field, running and digging and sniffing and exploring, she perhaps has never had so much freedom to run in her life, and I was happy to give it to her.

She has the quality that Red had of understanding me without words, and always keeping me insight.

It was a beautiful thing to see this dog explore her new world, and I felt a rush of joy and love for her. She has become close to me and is already giving pleasure to so many other people.

In crowded Jean’s Place, she behaved beautifully, cuddling with a small boy.

On the road, she always keeps me in mind, as if she has absorbed Red’s injunction that I bear watching.

I let her romp in her big field for a while (she is exhausted now), and when I decided I needed to get home to an icepack (this the kneecap I fractured when I fell at the first Bedlam Farm), I just moved towards the car.

Zinnia, way out in the field, turned to me. I said nothing, I just opened the car door and stood waiting. Zinnie picked up her head, swiveled to me. She stood silently for a few seconds, and then came bounding and flopping and sliding to me, tail wagging like a helicopter blade.

We had a happy reunion and came home. It was a great walk, she lay down a half dozen times without hesitating, and she is learning to “heel,” that is walking alongside my left knee without pulling to the side or jerking me along.

I learned once more how important that is for a dog that walks with me as a partner, not a prisoner. We are in it together.