Pete's Taxi Service

Went for a run at Riverside Park with Peter T. Dog on Sunday. It's not something I planned, it just happened. The kids were off at a birthday party, so I decided to seize the afternoon and enjoy the beautiful weather. Figured a nice, easy three miles around the neighborhood would be a good way to work out the slight stiffness from Saturday's 10k.

As soon as I pulled out my running shoes, Pete was beside himself. I finished changing, with him pacing at the foot of the bed. I filled the water bottle, with him sitting on my feet. I walked over to grab the doggie bags, with his nose in the back of my knee. Opened the kitchen door, and was almost knocked to the ground by Pete, as he charged the screen door.

I know, how is this a taxi service?

The waist leash was still in the truck from Monday's run. I opened the back driver's side door, to get it. Snapped it on to Pete's collar, and turned around to set his radio collar by the house, and...He was in the center seat. Would not get out of the truck. I could not talk him out. I could not bribe him out. I could not drag him out. He was ready to go.

So, I started the truck and drove Pete to the park.

Darn dog.

We had a blast. Good run. 4.6 miles, with stops at both creek and river access point for the wild dog to drink his fill of muddy water.

The park was packed. The warm weather had brought out the herds. Loads of folks, clogging up the usually empty stretches of path. I don't mind at all the kids, learning how to ride bikes or rollerblade. I'm glad they're out there. I do mind their mothers, who walk absentmindedly in the center of the path, barely holding onto the leashes of their yapping dogs, while talking on cell phones, gesturing wildly with the hand holding the leash, and hitting runners who are trying not to get in the way of their offspring . And, if you're not going to pause in your conversation long enough to say "excuse me" for poking said runner in the breast, at least have the decency to buy me a drink.