I think about when I run.
After the last disaster of a run when I brought my dog along with me, I said, "Never again!" But as with most mistakes I've made in my life, I forget the consequences and am ever doomed to repeat them.
After "Sunday Morning" and three cups of coffee, I was ready to go. So was Squishy, it seemed. So we headed off into the humid, sunless morning along my normal route to Tourtellotte.
Here is the progression of my dog's thought pattern there and back. (As far as I can tell, anyway. I don't speak dog.)
Minute 2: Jeez, my owner is really slow. I'd better pull her along so she feels like she's actually accomplishing something. Lazy human.
Minute 5: Squirrel! (Owner yanked onto a lawn, trying to stay on her feet and correct my course.)
Minute 6: Hang on a minute. I want to sniff this tree, for like, 30 seconds. ... Hey, quit pulling my leash! I'll be done when I'm done!
Minute 7: This looks like a good place to do my bidness. ... Oh, well gee, I'm so sorry you had to stop jogging at your very slow pace, owner, so that I can relieve myself. It's the least you can do, considering I've been doing more than half the work this whole time. ... Now pick it up and carry it with you. You don't want these homeowners to think I'm THAT kind of dog, do you?
Minutes 10, 10.5, 11 and 11.5: Woah, these are new trees. I've never sniffed these trees. These would be excellent trees to mark. Whoever this St. Bernard, chow and ... dalmation! Wow, a dalmation! ... Anyway, whoever they are, if they come back, they should know that these are my trees now.
Minute 12: Squirrel! (See the minute 5 parenthetical.)
Minute 14: Squirrel! (Above.)
Minute 17: Well, I mean, I guess she's not that slow. Why does she still want to run? Where is she running to? Walks are so much more pleasant. Stupid human.
Minute 22: Is that rain? Are we pretty far from home and it's raining? This tree would be a good place to hide under and refuse to move from.
Minute 25: Well I never! Reducing my leash lead to, what, two feet? Is she really going to drag me all the way home? In the rain?
Minute 30: I'm tired. I'm tired. I'm tired. It's raining. I'm tired.
Minute 33: Did she really just call me that? Is she really that irritated when I'm the one suffering here?
Minute 35: Oh, home. Thank god. Water. Water. Water. ... At least she's learned her lesson. I'm sure tomorrow morning, when she puts on those pink running shoes, we'll just go for a walk. That must be what she meant when she said, "You are the absolute worst, and I will never, ever take you running again. Ruiner of fitness! Selfish, lazy dog! THE WORST!"
But then, I don't speak human.