I Listen to My Dog

Wednesday morning, Coach, Zoe and I went to the YMCA to go walking.  Just walking.  We were going to put in 2 miles, about 40-45 minutes and then shower and head in to work.  Of course, getting up at 4:50 am to get to the Y with a 7 month old puppy is like getting your baby up and in a stroller for the morning jog.  It often doesn't go as planned or in a timely fashion.

First, I have to get out of bed.  The difference between 4:50 am and 5 am is monumental.  Imagine lying in your bed and thinking about getting up with that 4 am staring you in the face.  If you only waited 10 more minutes....

It was now or never, so we got up.  Coach and Willow (our chocolate lab) followed me downstairs for a pee break (for dogs) and coffee (for me).  Then it is puppy feeding time.  Then poo time (for the dogs).  Coach performed both really well.

I picked up my coffee mug, leash, three bags and headed for the door.  I was already 5 minutes late.

By the time I hit the Y, I was sure Zoe was going to be waiting, but there she was putting on her tennis shoes.  She had stayed up late watching the debates and was tired.  I let Coach out to greet her.  We walked in and I got a lock for the locker and then we headed out to the track.  Coach was in quite a hurry to get to the track.

Zoe, my walking partner, and Coach on the track in the morning.

Once out there Zoe started up her Nike app and we began walking.  About 30 seconds into it, Coach pulls hard to the left.  Eeek! A poo break.  But I was prepared.  I had anticipated a potential poo on the track and brought poo bags with me.  So I cleaned it all up and we were back walking in no time.

After about a mile, another lady joined the track.  She was a runner.  I think there was a boot camp class that was going to start at 6 am and she was early and wanted to get in extra running time, because she was super healthy and had extra energy to burn (I wonder what that is like?).  She jetted past us and as she did, she said, "I see a puppy in training!"  It was a rather happy greeting.  We said a jolly hello back and kept walking.

Coach, however, was amazed by this woman.  "OMG! Look how fast!  She is like Wonder Woman!"  You could see the puppy thoughts zooming in his brain.  He picked up the pace and looked back at me when I didn't follow suit.

It was like when you take your child to that first birthday party with all the moms in attendance and your child turns and looks at you and says, "Why can't you dress pretty like that mommy?" And you realize that your fashion sense is not what it used to be.  Or at least your child doesn't get it.  And there's no going back!

Coach had looked back at me and said, "I like the fast mommy! Let's run!"

Pumpkin, we are not running.  "Coach, buddy, you got the pokey mama." Zoe laughed.  "We aren't running and you can't change mamas now."

Coach was still straining at the leash and had a wistful look in his eye.  He managed to contain his disappointment and finished he walk with us.

Coach lying on the shower floor with his head poking under the shower curtain.

Then we hit the showers.  He was very good in the shower.  He stayed in a down stay at the edge of the shower.  Although, I do have to admit that he poked his head under the curtain as you can see in the photo above and looked at the ladies who were walking to and fro.  

Coach sitting a little damp in the shower.

Nobody screamed though, so I consider that a victory of sorts. And the YMCA staff has been very welcoming.

Today we went for another walk and since Zoe slept through her alarms so we had the first few minutes on the track by ourselves.  Now, if you know me at all, you should know that I am a slave to my overactive imagination and the only reason that Zoe and I joined the gym is that we scared ourselves walking in the dark in our neighborhood.  DON'T LAUGH.  It's true.  Well, I'm sure you are laughing anyway, so go ahead.  

Coach and I step out onto the track area, which I will say, is super well-lit and fenced in and all the brush is trimmed back. So, no problem, I say to my lizard brain where all my imagination and fear is contained.  

Then Coach stops and stares over at the middle of the track.  Way off into the darkness past the fence into the bushes.  Right where someone would be lurking.  

"What is it?" I ask.  Coach remains on alert.  "There's nothing there."  I say this in a whisper.  I realize that I've whispered this and I say it again louder.

Coach ignores me and stares more intently at the spot.  

I start thinking about all the horror films I've seen.  The ones where the girl goes out in the dark and her dog sees the psycho killer and the audience screams, "Don't go in there!" and the girl says, "Oh, Sparky, there's nothing there! You silly!" And the audience screams, "Don't go in there you idiot!!!" And she goes in there. And the audience screams, "NOOOOOOOO!!!!!" And the psycho killer gets her. And the audience screams, "Why didn't you listen to your dog!!!!"

I look down at Coach.

Maybe we'll do obedience drills right here until Zoe comes.  I'm not stupid.  I listen to my dog, but I'm still not running.