By now, you must all be acquainted with my affection for the canine species.
Again, Roger and I are petsitting. Or, we WERE petsitting. Sadly (for me),
Tuesday morning was our last with Cassidy.
To show Roger that I really can be responsible when it comes to owning certain
things that will actually TELL me when they need food, I decided to take Cassidy
on a walk.
Because, you know, being responsible means taking the dog for exercise. Not
because I need exercise, but because she does. At least, she needs more than the little she gets chasing her football around the house every time we throw it,
and when wandering out into the backyard to pee.
At least I occasionally take the stairs at work, and sometimes I have to walk
over to get the mail, and EVERY DAY during the week I descend a flight of
stairs, take a brisk (albeit short) walk to my car, and then later walk from my
car back up the stairs. I would even like to note that sometimes I climb these
stairs WITH groceries, and intermittently have to make more than one trip. So
you can see that I am in better shape than the dog, what with all the exercise
that I so frequently get.
I told Cassidy that we were going for a w-a-l-k and she ignored me. Then I told
her, "Cassidy! We're going for a WALK!" She started doing somersaults and flips,
ran 32 laps around the house to warm up her muscles, performed a routine on the
balance beam and then finished by jumping up and giving me a hug. She was
excited.
In the first thirty seconds of the walk, she set quite a brisk pace, only barely
stopping to smell the grass and flowers and other animal feces. The leash was
taut, but not near the point of stretching and tearing of nylon fibers.
Because I have that keen motherly instinct, I knew that Cassidy was not pleased
with my slow human pace of exercise. For her benefit, I slowly started to jog,
to show her that we could go a little faster, but that she couldn't just run
amuck.
Pleased, we trotted along for approximately 1/20th of a mile UPHILL until
Cassidy had to relieve herself. And really, when I say uphill, please let me
clarify. It was approximately a 45-degree angle, uphill. Many of you don't know
that this exists in Dallas. It does, because I discovered it Monday night while
jogging with Cassidy. Interestingly, it didn't go downhill. That's the part I
would have liked to run. Instead, Cassidy took me on a route that slowly wound
downhill, so that I didn't even realize that I was going down.
Yes, we were out for hours and hours and hours and hours, taking this
mountainous route through residential Dallas. Perhaps sometime I'll show you on
a topographical map.
All those stairs I climb didn't prepare me for all this jogging with Cassidy.
When she realized that I didn't intend to start jogging again, she tried to
nudge me along. She turned around, smiling at me. She found random items of
interest to bark at and run after, such as water sprinklers, other dogs, other
humans, parked cars, and a water molecule. I allowed her to chase such things
for short periods of time, namely, when our running didn't cause me to be
required to take more than 20 steps. See how generous I am?
Labs are smart pups. Cassidy is no exception. She knew what I was doing, and
decided to teach me who the alpha was in our relationship. Mischievous as she
is, I had no idea what was coming. I noticed her turning back and glancing at
me. I thought she was just checking to make sure I was still there, and to smile
and encourage me. I noticed her sporadic pauses to smell something or pee. I
thought she just needed a break.
Her efforts were sly, and paid off. She was checking up on me. She was waiting
until I least expected it, and then Bam! she took off running. The initial jerk
of the leash told me two things: let go and risk not being able to find her, or
hold on. I have no clue why it didn't occur to me to jerk her back, even though
this happened several times during our walk.
When Cassidy started running, so did I. This is what happens when the animal is
stronger than you are. It was not so much a jog, like we were doing before. It
was more of a full-out sprint that lasted fifty yards, during which one arm
flailed in the wind and one arm held on to the leash, causing my body to be
oddly contorted to the right as I was being drug by my left hand.
Neighbors who were outside were laughing at me, saying such things as, "Haha! We
see who's taking who for a walk! Haha!!" And I would laugh in response, and say,
"Yeah!", sort of, because really, when you're sprinting this fast who can
breathe, let alone talk?
It is commendable that I never fell, and that I ran the whole time, because who
wants the embarrassment of being dragged down the street by a dog, scraping up
their elbows and knees on the asphalt?
Today my legs and hips and hiney are a bit sore. I think I should get a dog of
my own.
