They say all dogs love a walk, well, not all of us, because I don’t like them at all.
I hate wearing a harness. Before my Dad drags me outside for a walk, he secures my harness upside down, then takes it off; then, he puts it on with my right leg out, then my left. During each attempt, he says words that would be censored on HBO. By the time he is done, I no longer need to pee.
I go down the steps reluctantly, loathing the outside, where my Dad insists on walking longer because he's under the influence of the footwear lobby. I walk to the end of the driveway, turn up the street, and as soon as my house disappears from view, I am on my back legs, trying to return home, where I sleep and play with my toys. Also problematic is that we live in a trailer park, and someone can steal my home while I am on a forced march, and I will never see it or mommy again. It is very concerning.
My angel siblings have encouraged me to enjoy the walk and, while doing so, read and leave pee-mail to learn about other dogs in the neighborhood, but I am from a new generation. We don’t read pee-mail; we text. Also, most of the messages are pedantic, like “mommy bought me a new bone,” which is boring, unlike when Mommy buys me a new bone, which is more exciting than a loose pig in PetSmart on Easter Bunny Day.
If anyone sees us, Daddy, on his two legs, walking forwards, and me walking backward, it looks like we are doing the Targeyan Dance of the Dragons; in reality, it is an epic battle of wills. Spoiler Alert: I always win, having been born with a Griffon’s infinite patience. After five minutes of backpedaling, Dad gave up and took me home.
But inside my home lived the Judge, called Big Mama, who said I had to walk for a few minutes a day or I would become a beach ball. So, for up to ten minutes a day, my Dad and I continuously walk outside our tiny houses like Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern, stalking the McCallister place on Christmas Eve. I don’t mind; I get to keep an eye on my house while bringing in my steps.
And most importantly, I won a battle of wills again. In record time, I will have these folks wrapped around my paw by the New Year.
Ya know, my Muffin absolutely HATED to walk! She'd put on the brakes, turn and bloody her paws to get home. So we never made her. She got lots of exercise running in the fenced in yard.
ReplyDeleteRuby Rose, I have to tell your that Gail is laughing so much she just spat her breakfast cereal over the laptop screen.
ReplyDeleteI, Nobby, find this post incomprehensible. Life is not worth living, surely, unless one is walked for at least five miles, preferably off leash, EVERY day!
Toodle-oo!
Nobby (who is costing Gail ££££s in footwear).
we love that (sorry we laughed hahahahaha) we should live closer, then you could go with da phenny... he walks a$$ backwards to escape from da harness and da 87 collars... and they don't look like dancers more like the push me pull me from dogtor dolittle...
ReplyDeleteI dunno, Ruby...Big Mama is pretty fierce!
ReplyDeleteRuby Rose...walking is very good exercise; however, I know you live in a very cold area so I whisper in your ear, ::winter is coming:: Hugs cecilia
ReplyDeleteNot all dogs like to walk on a leash.
ReplyDeleteWe are with you on hating the darn harness Ruby...but I, Rosy, do love a good walk!
ReplyDeleteWe hope you can learn to like walks eventually. Chester, even with his arthritic legs and back, still loves to go for a walk. (Don't worry, we keep the walks short.)
ReplyDeleteThat does sound like a bit of a struggle! I also wear a harness but, in my case, it is because I tend to pull little too hard in my eagerness to go places!
ReplyDeleteWoofs,
Ollie
Hahaha, we can't imagine hating walks because we love walks! We are huskies and are all about forward motion. But don't you enjoy checking out the other dogs in the neighborhood via their peemail?
ReplyDelete