Lately, I’ve been feeling really bad for Maggie, our black lab (or Donnie’s black lab when she pukes on the floor). Maggie’s been really down lately. The past few weeks, we’ve been so active, it’s like our house has revolving doors.
Tonight, I decided to take Maggie with us on our walk. She knew it too. It’s like she could read my mind! Or maybe it was the jingle of her leash. She perked up – did that run in place thing they do in cartoons – and ran to me. Jumping and spinning and jumping and tap dancing around. She was so excited I worried she’d be bouncing around in her own puddle of excitement (if you know what I mean).
I wish I got as excited about anything as Maggie does about walks.
Logan manned his scooter and declared, “I’m going speed-fast the whole way!”
I replied (effectively deflating his bubble), “As long as Mommy can see you, you can go as fast as you want.”
I loaded Riley up in the stroller and we were off.
Halfway to the first sidewalk (about 10 feet), Maggie veered (drunken with excitement), cuts me off and I run her over with the stroller, Yipe! The handle bar jabs me in the ribs. Ouch!
“Well, I hope you learned your lesson Maggie.” As if she knows what “lesson” means, or “learned,” or “hope”. She got the message though. It’s all in the tone.
Maggie went on to cut me off about 5 more times over the 2 mile walk. She’s was just too excited (and she can’t hide it.)
About halfway, Maggie started getting tired. This was my favorite part, because she started falling in line. However, fatigue didn’t stop her from trying to beat Logan. (She’s very competitive). So now she’s walking straight, on the sidewalk like a good dog, but she’s picked up her pace. I’m doing that hip swing, speed walking you see only in the Olympics and at the mall on weekday mornings. In hindsight, I coulda picked it up to a jog.
We speed-walked past a couple of women. I waved awkwardly. Although, It looked more like I was swatting at a fly. I didn’t want to let go of either the leash or the stroller for very long. One woman called out, “Looks like you got a motor on that stroller.”
I tried to think of a clever comeback but only “YYYep,” managed to escape to my mouth as Maggie’s leash somehow disconnected from her collar. In seconds, Maggie was bathing in the nearby pond scum with what appeared to be a smug smile on her dogface. Me? I stood there, at a halt, holding a dog-less leash and looking dumbfounded .
Maggie swam laps as the kids at the park giddily yelled, “Doggy, doggy!” but then screamed when she shook her pond scum at them. Ha!
Maggie’s swim was the perfect end to her favorite thing the world. She calmly walked the rest of the way home. Dripping all the way.