The Kick off of the 2014 World Cup
Here’s our very own Zekester waiting for the U.S. game…
Photographer: Thank you Susan
Tag: Vizsla
Running. With Chubby.
Zeke and I slow and stop on a narrow part of the trail as we close in on a walker and her puppy.
“Is he a Vizsla?”
She’s tall. Lean. Has to be 6′ 3″. A trace of Euro accent. East German Swimmer? Swedish Volleyball player?
D: “Yes.”
“He’s Big.”
Her cute 5-month old terrier is at her heels. Bouncing on her toes. Looking up at her Mommy with admiration.
D: “Big?”
“Aren’t Vizsla’s smaller?”
Her pup has a pink collar. Lean. Muscled. Beautiful dog.
D: “Snacks.”
She grins and points. There’s Zeke. He’s 20 yards off the trail. Rolling on his back, grinding in Deer urine.
I leash Zeke up. He’s still on his back, with all four legs in the air. His eyes manic, full, are locked on mine. He’s baring his teeth and growling.
“Zeke, Don’t Screw With Me.”
And, then with a firm, snap-tug on the leash, I drag him behind me until we’re back in rhythm.
Team Frito-Lay builds a head a steam and roars by Team Euro.
Big and Bad.
Time Check: 5 miles. 63 minutes.
Nap Time.
Related Posts: Running Series. Image Source: Mine! Taken today on the run.
I love Saturday Mornings!
Happy Birthday Zeke
Six years ago today, Zeke was born.
Who knew?
- That a dog would eat (and enjoy) carrots, broccoli and cauliflower? (Incredible. Better eating habits than the kids.)
- That a dog could steal chewing gum from the counter top, unwrap it and eat it? (How?)
- That a dog would bark, snarl and snap at the King of the Household to protect the others? (Why bite the hand that earns the cash that buys the food that feeds you? Repeatedly?)
- That a dog would know every day at high noon, it’s Peanut Butter in Plastic Kong time? (How?)
- That a dog would sleep under the covers at your feet, every single night? And then move up to share your pillow later on at night? (Who needs central heating in the winter? Or a comforter for that matter?)
- That a dog could be so afraid of Andie, the black and brown tabby cat? (Come on Zeke. Man-up.)
- That a dog could spot anything in the sky but would miss a deer 20 yards in front of him?
- That a dog would lie down in front of his Momma, lift his paws one by one, and let her clip his toe nails. And then do a full-body wiggle between her legs after it was all done? (King’s Dog enjoys pedicures. Something very wrong here.) Continue reading “Happy Birthday Zeke”
Running. Man and Running Dog.
6:50 am. 67F. 87% humidity. Mom’s gone for the weekend visiting family. Zeke’s not happy. Mom walks him every day. Every single day. Three times a day. 2 1/2 hours a day. Daily routine – I wave to them from the couch as they head out the door. This morning, he’s out of sync. Discombobulated. He sees me gearing up for a run. He scrambles into his cage and lies down. He’s knows what’s coming. I grab him by his collar and drag him out of his cage. He snarls, baring his teeth. (I don’t need this sh*t. I don’t want to go either but we’re going. Pure Bred Running Dog who hates running. Owner is carrying him to the car. What a picture this is. He looks me in the eye – not a happy look. I glare back.) I shift his weight to my left and pull him tightly to my chest to free up my right hand. I reach for the door handle of the car. And, pull my lower back. And grimace. Oh, boy. I open the door. Heave him into the back seat. And curse.
I fire up the car. Shift uncomfortably in the seat. Lower back. Hmmmmm.
I back the car out of the garage. Zeke climbs from the back seat to the front. And starts licking my face. “Sit down. No bloody kisses.“ (He knows that I’m pi**ed.) He sits down in the passenger seat. His seat. And sulks.
And we’re off. Mianus Park. Plan: 5-Mile Trail Run. We arrive at the Park, leash up, and walk through the entrance. He pulls back on the leash and lies down on the bridge. He will not move. He will not accept a treat. (Oh, yes. A test of wills. Just what I need.)
Another dog owner walks by. One older German Shepard Mix. Another is a happy looking mutt with tail wagging furiously. (Did she just give me that look? Like, how’s that pure bred workin’ out for ya?)
I stop pulling on his leash. He’s now lounging, looking down at the river below. (How many shades of humiliation are there?)
I decide to pull a Mom and talk nicely to him. “Come on buddy. Let’s go for a nice walk in the woods. Come on. Let’s go.” (Oh, for God’s sake. I can’t do this. Is this what I’ve come to? Man-up. 206 lbs of fighting machine against this 70 lb beast and he’s got the upper hand. No chance.)
I look at him. He looks up at me. His tail swishing on the bridge deck. (Is he smiling? Could this be funny?)
“You are going to come. Right now. And run.” (Our last visit to this Park was not a great show. And an Elephant never forgets. And this one has a plan. I will not let him off leash to have him lie down in the grass at the bottom of the hill forcing me to back track. No sir. Not me. I will drag him for five miles, if that’s what it takes.) Continue reading “Running. Man and Running Dog.”