My Dog Chasing the African Runners
One morning last year I was about two-thirds done with my run with my dog Django, an Aussie Shepherd, who was just over a year old at the time. After a few miles I'd interrupted the run and I'd taken him down to the water at Town Lake to continue his impromptu swimming lessons. He didn't take naturally to the water, and I was trying to desensitize him to it.
I'd taken his leash off, and he was getting excited about being off of it, and being in the water (up to his knees anyway). I mean, he was getting really worked up, so I decided to put his leash back on, not knowing what he might do if left to his own devices. I was just about to grab his collar when up on the trail about ten feet away I saw a flash. It was a runner, a really, really fast runner, a Burundian guy who's a former Olympian. This guy can run 5 minute miles for an entire marathon. Before I had a chance to act, Django was gone, off chasing this guy.
It took me about two mili-seconds to realize that unless I got it in high gear like right now, that dog was going to be miles away in no time and I would have no earthly way of finding him or him me. I scrambled up the bank and took off after the dog/Olympian duo. By the time I was on the trail, they were at least 50 yards ahead of me.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to make up 50 yards on an Olympic 10,000 meter runner? And he was really moving--this was, unfortunately, not one of his long, slow runs. But I was hauling ass, and I was gaining on them. Would I have enough wind to keep it up long enough to catch them? Would my heart burst right there on the trail?
These were the questions running through my madly addled brain when the guy turned, saw the dog and figured it out. He stopped, glanced at his watch in a totally pissed off way, like this stupid dog was wrecking his workout, which it probably was, and saw me heading his way.
I was just about to lay hands on my dog and put the leash back on when, whoosh!, there goes the guy's friend past us, and off goes the dog again! I took off after Django, but the other runner wasn't any more than 20 yards off when he too stopped. I grabbed Django by the scruff of the neck, clicked on the leash and thanked the guys for stopping. They gave me a look and then hit the trail.
I then informed Django that he was a very bad dog.
That wasn't the only reason I stopped running with my spastic dog, but its was the final straw. We have a new deal. Town Lake trail is my turf. The dog park is his. We're both way happier that way.
Well, at least I am.
I'd taken his leash off, and he was getting excited about being off of it, and being in the water (up to his knees anyway). I mean, he was getting really worked up, so I decided to put his leash back on, not knowing what he might do if left to his own devices. I was just about to grab his collar when up on the trail about ten feet away I saw a flash. It was a runner, a really, really fast runner, a Burundian guy who's a former Olympian. This guy can run 5 minute miles for an entire marathon. Before I had a chance to act, Django was gone, off chasing this guy.
It took me about two mili-seconds to realize that unless I got it in high gear like right now, that dog was going to be miles away in no time and I would have no earthly way of finding him or him me. I scrambled up the bank and took off after the dog/Olympian duo. By the time I was on the trail, they were at least 50 yards ahead of me.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to make up 50 yards on an Olympic 10,000 meter runner? And he was really moving--this was, unfortunately, not one of his long, slow runs. But I was hauling ass, and I was gaining on them. Would I have enough wind to keep it up long enough to catch them? Would my heart burst right there on the trail?
These were the questions running through my madly addled brain when the guy turned, saw the dog and figured it out. He stopped, glanced at his watch in a totally pissed off way, like this stupid dog was wrecking his workout, which it probably was, and saw me heading his way.
I was just about to lay hands on my dog and put the leash back on when, whoosh!, there goes the guy's friend past us, and off goes the dog again! I took off after Django, but the other runner wasn't any more than 20 yards off when he too stopped. I grabbed Django by the scruff of the neck, clicked on the leash and thanked the guys for stopping. They gave me a look and then hit the trail.
I then informed Django that he was a very bad dog.
That wasn't the only reason I stopped running with my spastic dog, but its was the final straw. We have a new deal. Town Lake trail is my turf. The dog park is his. We're both way happier that way.
Well, at least I am.
posted by Robert Goyer at
9:39 AM
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