I think my sister is starting to get the hang of running in our pack. This morning she still took off like she was chasing a bunny, but stopped running around in wild zig zags after a few minutes (unlike yesterday when it took her a mile to ratchet it down from “bunny chase” to “running through a flock of geese”)!
Mom also is getting savvy to our new pack, and pulled out an harness that was too small for me that she had meant to return and then forgot. So I had to wear the ugly safety harness and my sister got to wear this brand new, sleek, form-fitting harness. Maybe it was because it’s hard to run like you’re ready to lick the world if you’re not dressed to impress, but even when my sister settled down to an even, easy pace I didn’t take the lead.
Mom was a little worried that I might be tired from the 24/7 wrestling marathon that I’ve been participating in since my sister got here, but I ALWAYS run right behind her. I do it to make sure that if something dangerous happens, she’s the first one to come face-to-face with a monster. You would think Mom would remember. At least once a week she trips on the leash and makes and ugly crowing noise, does an ungainly dance move, and yells at me. Only now that my sister is here, SHE is the one latched to the hands-free leash and I’m on a special, short hand-held running leash. The result was that when I hung back, Mom was running with her arm pulled back behind her, and I think it was bothering her. She nagged me more and more to run next to her, but I didn’t want to run with my sister’s ugly butt in my face and her crooked nubbin tail smacking me. So I stayed in my customary place at Mom’s 5 o’clock. Then, when my sister slowed to run beside her, Mom encouraged me to go to the front. She even held my sister’s leash out of the way so I could come through. But I wouldn’t do it.
A gentleman knows, ladies first. And I am above all, a gentleman.
-Sir Oscar the Pooch