It has been a week since Lent started, and I’ve done well with walking the dog. Actually, I missed Sunday, but I recall making strong arguments when I was a kid that Sundays are not actually included in Lent. I can’t say why that is, but I’m going to stick with that story and use it is my lame excuse for not hitting the pavement with Lucy. Well, that and I really felt lousy all day.
Most of the time, Lucy and I have walked around the block, which, in my case, is 1.25 miles, and has plenty of hills.
Last night was the first time I took Lucy out after dinner. The time worked for me, but I’m not so sure Lucy was a fan. She was happy enough when I grabbed the leash and took her outside, and for the first quarter mile, she seemed happy. But after the first break in the first hill, she started struggling against me. We had a little chat, walked a few more steps, and she struggled again. This time, she sat down, stood back up, shook her head, and managed to get her leash off her head.
For a few seconds, we stared at each other. This was unexpected. Then she realized she was free, and bounded off down the road. I followed, she ran further, circling me, but always out of reach. I walked the other way to see if she’d follow, but she didn’t. Eventually, she must have gotten bored with her freedom, and she trotted back to the garage and the door to the house. When I got there with the leash in my hand, she was excited to see me, and sat down to have the leash placed back on her head.
Off we went again, up the street. Once again, about a quarter of a mile in, she resisted. I encouraged, she sat. I pulled, she pulled back. I gave up and we walked home with no idea what had bugged her so much.Share on Facebook