Mom promised that we would keep running after this challenge, but we finished on Friday and yesterday it was Wednesday, and she still has not run with me! She took me on a brief walk to the library on Saturday (a walk! me!) where I was very well behaved and didn’t pull on the leash or bark at any strangers. But that was before I knew that Mom was going to put me on a running fast. If I’d know that I would have pulled and pulled on the leash to get as many ants out of my pants as possible. After the library, she went away for the night and ever since she’s come home the lazy slob has been sleeping through running time. God knows what’s going on on My Trail without me to patrol it. And for a dog with my clinical levels of FOMO (“fear of missing out” to those of you that don’t speak Acronym), my anxiety levels are through the roof.
Usually when Mom comes through the front door, I push my snout out the door as soon as it’s open a millimeter and whine and wiggle. Then when the door opens all the way and my People start to come in, I run laps around the coffee table. If I’ve had a particularly restless day, I might jump on and off the love seat, which is not blocked by the coffee table like the couch is, and has a clear runway in front of it. The other day when Mom got home, the coffee table was not big enough to contain my excitement. I ran a wide loop around the whole living room. “You’re home! You’re home!” I screamed. Then my circuit reached the couch and I leapt over the arm, landing on NotMom who happened to be sitting there. “You’re home!” I screamed as pushed off of NotMom and bounded across the cushions and leapt over the other arm, rebounded off the floor and immediately bounced back up and cleared the love seat arm. “You’re home! You’re home!” I screamed as I did the same circuit again (over the arm, onto NotMom, over the other arm, onto the love seat and around again). By the third time I’d zoomed around, again, even the couch could not contain me. “You’re home!” I screamed, as I jumped over the arm of the couch, over NotMom, and onto the backrest of the couch, sprinted across it like a balance beam and jumped on Mom for a flying bear hug. Mom needed to take me on a run. It was time.
So she set her alarm for early this morning and we peeled ourselves out of bed. It was in the 40’s, dark, and actively raining. When it’s raining, My Trail gets real slippery, and Mom gets grumpy when I pull. “Let’s scrap this idea,” I said when we stepped out into the driveway.
“But you need it,” Mom said.
“Nah, it’s cool,” I said. “I’ll just rip up the mail instead.”
“No. I hate it when you do that, because then you hide in the bedroom and don’t greet me when I come home and I get lonely,” Mom said. “Plus I have to clean it up.”
“Then I’ll search the whole house until I find some forgotten snack that you left in some bag you never use at the back of some closet.”
“No, because then I’ll have to spend my evening on the phone with the vet. I don’t understand why they would make a chocolate-garlic-raisin-onion-avocado Clif bar anyway…”
“You don’t want to leave me another poopy diaper to play with, do you?”
Out of excuses, I ran with her. It was only 3 miles, but it was enough to make me hungry enough to really crave a chocolate-garlic-raisin-onion-avocado snack, and short enough to leave me with the energy to find one…
-Oscar the Pooch