This weekend Mom and I were going to sneak into the trail that we’re not supposed to go into. It’s only open to Palo Alto residents, and we live in another town, but Mom usually parks a quarter mile down the road and we go in early before it opens and run in other people’s woods. Like outlaws. Because it’s so dark in the morning these days, Mom was going to run with a headlamp and let me run free like a real bandit. But once we got to our usual parking spot, there was a construction vehicle and a construction guard man standing there already blocking the road right where we usually park. So I kept driving, whistling like, “Nothing to see here… I just happen to be driving up this deserted mountain road before dawn on a Saturday… Doopy doopy doooo…” Then we drove back down the hill and to the trail where Mom is allowed but I am not. We’re trail snobs, you see, and only run on “exclusive” trails… trails that try to “exclude” us!
It was still really dark, so as promised Mom let me off leash once we were about a quarter mile into the woods. Once she set me free, I sprinted off up the trail until… after about 20 yards I couldn’t see anymore. I always thought that the spotlight followed me because, well… I’m the star of the show! But my spotlight bearer couldn’t keep up with my quick feet, so I kept sprinting into the dark, then waiting for my spotlight to catch up before tearing off again. Bit by bit the sun rose, and Mom and I had the mountaintop sunrise all to ourselves. We had run about 8 of our 9 miles and come back down off the mountain before we saw another soul.
It was such a special morning, that after we got home and Mom had fed me breakfast I decided to continue the celebration. I waited till Mom had gone to the store and then knocked my food and my sister’s glucosamine joint chews on the ground and ate them all up. I doubt it’s related, but I spent the rest of the weekend with diarrhea and puking.
–Oscar the Outlaw