For the five plus years of my labralife, our morning routine has been the same:
- 5 AM (give or take) I wake up momma.
- She stumbles out of bed and prepares my labrabreakfast. Yum.
- While I consume my foodables, momma sips her morning coffee.
- I take a quick trip outside to take care of any emergency functions.
- I digest while momma reads the paper and completes her waking up.
- Around 7 AM a nice, relaxed walkie.
But then momma says "Oh, Dexter, let's start a jogging program."
Now I agree that she could use a little more exercise, but yours truly is a fine physical specimen, not in any way in need of additional exercise.
I went along with her because that's the kind of guy I am, but I thought it was a big mistake.
|Slow down, crazy lady.|
But a few hours after our first jogging session, I got the barfies not once, not twice, but three times (and let me tell you, my breakfast was pretty darn good every time I snarfed it back up).
I had to put my paw down.
"No jogging foolishness, please! This is insanity!"
I told her that if she wants to practice her running skills in case she needs to escape zombies or get away from mad dentists (is it safe?) she is free to do that on daycare days when my romping with my playmates negates the need for a stroll about the neighborhood.
And order has been restored.
We are back to our more pleasant routine of leisurely walkies with plenty of time to stop and enjoy the passing scenery.
|Is that a rabbit?|
And visit with my other pals (possibly scoring noms in the process).
|This is more like it.|
It was a near thing, but sanity prevailed.