in a tiny package.
Well it appears that winter has finally decided to exit stage left here in ye’ ol’ Nebraska.
The claps and cheers at the local university baseball games can finally be heard in full force, fans being able to leave the thermal gloves and knitted scarves at home when they flock to the ball parks.
The temperature topped 70, causing us all to dig through last years shorts and shimmy into a pair, daring to expose our neighbors to our winter paleness while we steal those first few rays.
And it’s the type of weather that sparks all humans, whether hard-core athletes or couch loving potatoes, to strap on some shoes and hit the trails.
Now while those trails and roadways get backed with runners, bikes, and strollers, another breeds squeaks in its four paws, adding to the congestion. The dog.
I love dogs and I love people who take out their dogs on runs with them. When I go out for a run, I used to be jealous of those out with their jogging companions, wishing I had a four-legged friend I could take out with me, especially on my early morning runs. Unfortunately, when you’re a woman and you run alone at 5 am, there are times that you feel uncomfortable and desire a furry protector.
Almost three years ago, we added a furry member to our family. The kids had been asking forever, begging to be loyal and responsible dog owners. Santa finally caved and deposited a cute little, Yorkie-Poo, Maddie, into our home. Why a Yorkie-Poo you ask? Well, the answer is two-fold. Paige has a dog allergy, any puppy we were given need to be non-shedding. Secondly, I’m not a big dog person. Just thinking about 87 pounds of slobbering, shedding dog sends my OCD into a tailspin. In my eyes, dogs should be fluffy, soft, little and cute. It should be able to fit under my arm, in a purse, or curl up in my lap. (Ok, mock me now. I’m woman enough to handle it.) I do draw the line at clothes. You should not dress your dog….except on Halloween…. and during football season…. and, screw it. I dress my dog sometimes too.
Anyway, back to the nice weather. Maddie LOVES to go for walks. And when I say loves, that’s an understatement. We cannot even say the word ‘walk’ in our house. We have to spell it, because, if you say it, you had better be prepared to grab the lease and the poop bag right then and there. When you do walk her, she pulls you, going full throttle at the end of her leash the whole time. She comes home still hyped, still leaping up to your waist, still looking for you to throw her ball. Seriously, how much energy does this dog have?
Too bad I can’t take her on a run.
Or can I.
I don’t know where the unwritten rule about what type of dog you can take on a run came from, but today, I remembered that my dad didn’t call me his ‘little trendsetter’ for no reason and set out to re-align the universe.
I laced up my shoes, strapped on my music, and asked the spunkiest Yorkie-Poo on the block if she wanted to go on a run. Want to guess what she said?
She took off like a dart, practically dragging me off the driveway and up the first hill, proving she was up for the challenge. The only thing Maddie might love more than being out on her leash…. is peeing. She is forever at the door, scratching to be let out. She will go out, come in, then go right back out again. Apparently, I have the cutest puppy with the smallest bladder. That, and the largest ‘little dog’ syndrome, so she must spread her scent wherever she goes. Our run started out like this. Mad dash at puppy full speed, nearly choking herself trying to make the leash longer. Squat in grass. Be passed by Kerry. Give up squat to pass Kerry and take the lead back. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.
About twenty minutes (yes, I said 20 minutes) into our run, Maddie started running at my side, matching me stride for stride, no longer trying to drag me. I thought, maybe, just maybe, this was it. I had found the point at which one can tire out a Yorkie-Poo. Then she started running behind me. Crap, I’m about to break my puppy. I’m going to have to carry her all the way back home. You know what looks sillier than running with a Yorkie-Poo… running while carrying a Yorkie-Poo. Well, my fears were completely unfounded. As it happens, my puppy was nowhere near spent, there just happened to be a runner approaching me from behind and Maddie morphed into protector mode. I stepped to the side to let the runner pass. Maddie again took off at full speed.
We hit the half way point and pulled a U-turn, heading for home. She didn’t let up the whole way back. I was in awe. At any moment, I expected her to throw in the figurative towel, to sit down and refuse to lift one more paw. But it never happened.
We rounded the last corner and caught sight of the house. She did it! She made it the whole run. Hot Dog! No, seriously, she was hot, thirsty, and panting like crazy. I rewarded my superstar runner with a puppy treat and giant bowl of cool water. She eat, drank, and crashed. Literally.
Remember the Tootsie Roll commercial…’How many licks does it take to get the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop?’ I still don’t know that, but I now know how many miles it takes to tire out a Yorkie-Poo… 4 1/2.
If only it lasted.
Later in the day, IP made the mistake of saying the “W” word.
Guess who made a B-line to the door…..