RUNNING WITH MY DOG

 

As couch potatoes, my two dogs are second to none.

Snuggling down in their baskets is their favourite hobby and having a cushy time is their life motto. Actually it has always been the motto of all the dogs I have had.

 

 It must 'run in the family',cause the very first dog we had set the mood immediately.

Jolux was a cheerful, playful and energetic little cocker.

So, one day I thought I could start a running program with him.

We were on holidays in a hilly place in the middle of nowhere and far from the madding crowd, so a good opportunity to work out together.

I leashed him to leave our rental, but once on the quiet path I had spotted before, I let him go free.
When I started jogging, he thought I was playing, so he started jumping , barking and performing all the silly antics he mastered perfectly.

Then, little by little, he calmed down, and trotted behind me, letting out some heavy sighs, cause I didn't leave him any break to read the latest news, I mean, to sniff the blades, the clods, and all his fellows' messages.

Although I was running at the same, steady, moderate pace, half-an-hour later I was in a sweat and not so full of beans.

As for Jolux, I was amazed at his stamina , I could not even hear him panting or even sniffing !

I turned back to congratulate him, but no dog to be seen , even in the far distance !

I called him, I whistled (badly, but I did ), but  no barking reply.

All the way back home, I kept screaming my head off, in vain.

When I arrived near the house, I was out of breath,scared stiff and

panic-stricken.

First thing was to contact the local animal shelters, and then, to comb the neighbourhood again.

I opened the gate of the garden, and was looking for the keys in my bumbag, when I caught sight of Jolux having a nap on the door-mat !

The lady nextdoor came out, and asked me if it was my dog.

When I answered that she was right, the couch potato sprawling over there  and snoring was mine, she uttered a sigh of relief.

She said that he had been lying on the door-mat for three quarters of an hour. 

I looked at my watch and realized that my so-called training partner had taken a French leave and walked back home as soon as he had understood that if running for running's sake was my new craze, it was not his at all!

A PICK-UP AFTER YOUR DOG STORY

 

Some years ago I had a dog named Charlie

 He was a good boy, well-mannered and always eager to please.
Yet, when it came to doing his business, things were rather different.

Every evening before going to bed, I used to take him for a walk, and every evening the same old story.
There was a smart restaurant with a covered terrace down our block, and Charlie seemed to take a special delight in doing his business smack-bang in front of it.
No matter how long we walked,that mischievous guy would block his bowels till he was " in the limelight " of that restaurant!
Was he expecting applause from the customers inside, or, even worse, an encore??

I really don't know. The only thing I know was that every evening I tried to improve my skill and style to pick up Charlie's masterpiece, and to bend like a maestro thanking his audience.Then, I tied the poo bag and, red with shame, I dragged " my artist " into the lobby of our building.

All throughout his life, Charlie played his damned performance every night, except fifteen days off. You know why?
The restaurant was under works!!!
That's when it came to my mind that my naughty dog had been playing his embarrassing trick on purpose. 
But why?
Was it because of the " dogs not admitted " sign on the door of the restaurant? Who knows?