"Nah. I just took him on a walk", I reply.
Our smaller dog, Rusty, is a pain in my butt most of the time. We rescued him as a puppy- someone had left him and his brother on the side of a road in a box. Your guess is as good as mine as to what breed he is- his brother looks nothing like him and they are most likely the product of two mutts, so I assume he is the Melting Pot of the dog world.
Rusty weighs in at about 25-30 pounds. Our English Mastiff, Ben, is currently about 165 pounds. And guess who is the Alpha Dog.
Yup. Rusty. He is also at least 5 years younger than Ben, and I have yet to figure out who this combination wears out more- me or Ben. Rusty is a constant ball of energy, running in circles around Ben and nipping at his heels. Ben just calmly looks up at me with a look on his face that asks, "Why, Mom? Weren't we happy enough before?".
Unfortunately, Rusty is overly animated on evenings that both my husband and I have worked. The multiple holes chewed in my new couch proved that Rusty could not be trusted to be alone in the house, so he is confined to his crate during the day when we both work. I try to be patient and understanding on evenings such as this, knowing I would be crazy too if I was locked in a crate all day.
The warmer weather has helped lately, as I can more easily take him for a walk when I get home. This allows him to expend some energy in a more acceptable way, although he tends to pull my arm out of it's socket as he tries to pull me along.
This evening I decided to take him for a walk, but was wary of dark clouds headed toward the house. So instead of my flip-flops, I put on my tennis shoes and decided to give Rusty a "run" for his money...
The loop around my block is about half a mile, with the last half being uphill. That means the first half is down hill. Rusty and I started our sprint at full speed, his eyes shining, tail wagging, and ears pinned back as if he was in some way trying to be even more aerodynamic.
When we turned the corner and started uphill though, things changed. The research and training books I have been reading for triathalon all talk about how coming out of the gate too hard at the beginning will always catch up with you at the end. Well, it caught up with Rusty for sure- even got close enough to bite him in the butt I think.
By the time we got to our driveway, the first raindrops were just starting, and I was almost pulling Rusty behind me, something that has never happened before. We both collapsed upon entering the house, and I had a brief moment of guilt that maybe I had pushed him too hard. But the ensuing silence admittedly had me grinning and as I looked over at Rusty, he glanced back at me and seemed to say, "Holy crap, lady. That... was awesome".
Today's pic represents learning to pace yourself, and the joy a dog can derive from something as simple as a "walk" around the block.
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