My dog, Rubie, loves to go for walks. Whenever I pretend like she actually understands what I'm saying, and ask her if she wants to go for a walk, she runs excitedly to the door. Then she proceeds to whine the whole time I'm tying or putting on my shoes, because she wants to go outside that badly. Today, because it was about fifty degrees out, I decided to take Rubie for a walk around my neighborhood.
A dog who is almost two years old should be mellow by now, but Rubie on the other hand is a completely different story. I live on a hill, and sometimes I feel like a dog sled person, except I got left without a cart to stand on. That cocker spaniel of mine pulls me up the sidewalk, which isn't so bad, if you haven't done Pilates in gym class a few hours ago, and your arms don't already feel overextended like mine did. After we made it up to the top of my street, to the elementary school, avoiding how complicated that could be, Rubie and I decided to take a new route and go down a side street. Before we even got on the street I regretted ever walking down it. This street was full of puddles and at points, was a little bit muddy. It seemed my dog was a magnet when it came to puddles and walking right through them. It's like she didn't even care or realize that she was walking through a filthy puddle and then on to the next one. I feel bad for yanking on the leash to get her away from puddles, but it's ultimately for her own good.
My many attempts at trying to get a crazy red-haired dog out of puddles didn't succeed in the least. We came home and I looked at what Rubie had done to herself, she was a completely new dog - half red, half brown. She's in the kitchen now, drying off. I think a bath is in order for that puppy, maybe she'll like it, it has to do with water after all.
That is all
-"M"
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