my life as a hipster dog

The track was closed today because the track is always closed. That’s not new. What IS new is that the dog park was closed because of the Great Storm of 2019. But fear not — the dogs just moved the party over to the running course.

The loop is four-tenths of a mile, just enough time for a dog to see you coming and pick up a full head of steam. I’m not sure dogs pick up steam in their heads, but whatever. I can’t spell colloquialism.

FYI, dog owners: Saying “no!” doesn’t really do much when your unleashed, range-free dog is competing with two others in a spirited game of Eat The Runner. Luckily, I resorted to my go-to dog defense: Jumping up on a bench and screaming like a little girl. As always, an apology to little girls everywhere, who are much braver than me.

Fortunately, the dogs lost interest before the owners could reach me to quote the famous “Pink Panther” line, “My dog does not bite (insert french accent here).”

This led to a fun game of “Let’s Wrap Our Leashes Around The Old Guy’s Legs.” Upside: That meant some good citizens had their dogs on leashes. What a concept. Downside: some people also had ME on leashes. Did I mention I sorta hated this run?

But the showstopper was the Hipster Couple’s dog. I think he was dressed for tomorrow’s Academy Awards, or possibly today’s Razzies. The best thing about being a dog is not realizing how silly you look. Which I’m sure is what most people think about my daily running attire. I should probably work on my Hipster Running Wardrobe.

Two miles, 38 headaches, and a solemn vow to say screw it and jump the fence at the track tomorrow, where there are no dogs, and no hipsters. I hope I can find a gold sweater before then …

About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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