Surprise!

Freedom! Finally the rain has stopped, and Mom and I got to do a real run this morning. It was full of exciting and mysterious creatures… When we crossed the foot bridge onto My Trail, I heard a roaring monster I’d never heard in my jurisdiction before. I kept hearing the monster on and off as we patrolled my precinct for a mile and a half. Then we came to an underpass where the path runs along the creek that the path is named after. I know from almost 2 years’ experience running in California that a “creek” is a dry lane of sand and rocks, but this time there was water flowing over the creek. I wonder if this has ever happened before…

Then, on the way back, Mom wanted to do what she calls “greyhound intervals” where we sprint as fast as she can for 20s, run really slow for 10s, and then do it again. Greyhound intervals are my favorite, and usually I’m happy to hold back and run as fast as MOM can run. But I could smell a surprise for Mom up ahead, and I couldn’t wait to show her. So I decided that today we should run as fast as *I* can. I dragged Mom behind me so fast that her legs and arms were all over the place. Honestly, I don’t know how she stayed up. On our second-to-last burst, we came around a corner, and there in front of us was my surprise: two dopey pit bulls minding their own business and walking along in the dark with their people. “Let’s scare the crap out of them and sprint by at full speed, Mom!” I said. But Mom made me creep along past them at a very slow and predictable pace. It wasn’t until we were several yards in front of them that she said, “On your mark, get set, go!” and let me sprint away. Showboating was fun, but it would have been more fun if I could have snuck up from behind and blown their doors off.

THEN we were almost home, and we turned the last corner – a blind corner – and I found myself face-to-face with a very suspicious-looking golden retriever. The doggie trainer says that Mom isn’t allowed to pull me when I get nervous anymore. She is just supposed to give me lots of space and a “graceful way out.” Well, let me tell you, this Golden retriever sitting there with his laser eyes staring into Mom’s headlamp made me mighty nervous. One of us handled it well, and the other fled. I started barking my face off at him, telling him that I was going to f%$# him up because I didn’t like his face. Like you’re supposed to. Mom on the other hand turned on her heels and ran away in the other direction. What a sissy!

Oscar the Mayor/Coach/Thug10291296_1138438496175161_2825070133091611846_n

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