It’s just a slip lead. A piece of twisted rope dyed yellow—now faded and perpetually dirty—attached to a worn leather handle. It is not particularly valuable. It should not be a particularly big deal.
But sometimes an object becomes more than an object.
It’s just a slip lead, but it’s the one we carry on every off-leash hike down a deserted forest road. It’s the tether we keep when we probably won’t see another soul but want to be prepared in case we do—and so it rests in my hand on some of our favorite adventures. It is the feeling of covering ground as a team.
It’s just a slip lead, but it’s the one featured in dozens of photo ops since moving into our converted van. Tucked above the cab by our sliding side door, this rope is always in reach. Scout has worn it next to national park signs, and while playing tug in front of Mount Denali, and to pose with entirely too many roadside attractions.
It’s just a slip lead, but it’s the way we’ve taken her on almost every short bathroom break in four apartments across three states—and now while parking our home-on-wheels in urban settings overnight. Easy to put on and easier to take off, it’s the only leash we touch in the minutes before sharing our bed.
It’s just a slip lead, but it’s the stand-in Sean and Scout used to play tug in Newfoundland when we’d forgotten our real toys inside the van. Four years before, our sensitive cattle dog struggled to play with her favorite frisbee in an unfamiliar environment. But on this day? She launched right in. The leash withstood her thrashes.
It’s just a slip lead, but it’s the one I grabbed in 2020 when Scout had her first seizure. Only her front legs worked to support any weight, and she painstakingly dragged herself after me when I sprinted to the living room to grab my car keys. There wasn’t time to buckle her regular collar. (There was hardly time to breathe.)
It’s just a slip lead, but it’s the tether we used in the early darkness to go on structured walks six years ago. We lived in our second apartment then. It was the only season in my life where I had no roommate beyond this sensitive cattle dog, and I was so proud when Scout’s leash skills reached the point where I could hold the handle with a single finger.
It’s just a slip lead, but it’s one of the first things I ever had made just for her. Scout, the leather reads in a perfect serif typeface. This leash is for living and exploring with Scout.
Other notes and news
This nuance-letter
I got the sweetest message this week (hi, Tom!!) from a reader who felt inspired enough by my tattoo of Scout’s ears to get one in honor of his own pup. It made me tear up (in the best way).
I think this is a sign I ought to talk about my tattoos even more than I already do 😉
Scout updates and personal stuff
We arrived in Montana about a week ago on our going-west road trip. It’s been glorious immersing ourselves in nature (and kinda sorta pretending a lot of the outside world doesn’t exist 😅).
Scout loves the crisp morning air and ability to sunbathe on quiet public land. Sean and I love hiking in Glacier National Park!
Writing life
I loved a recent post from The Forever Workshop (the sister publication to Sub Club—I finally got paid subscriptions to both this year) on how to get past perfectionism.
Less than two months until my friend E.B. Bartels’s book, Good Grief, comes out in paperback! You can preorder it here if you’d like.
In case you missed it
On the topic of leads—though in a much less sentimental way—last week I processed some emotions and reasserted some core values regarding heated encounters with off-leash dogs.
