On Saturday I dragged myself out of bed for another early-morning-weekend-race. But this time it was a little easier to pull myself out from under the covers because a) I wasn’t anticipating any trenches full of mud, walls to scale, or angry drill sargeants like the last time, b) I already had my nap scheduled for later that day and c) the Real Boy was signed up to do this race with me! You know I’m a big advocate for all animal shelters and the local SPCA specifically, so I was glad to have the chance to raise some money for the cause by participating in the 6th Annual Mutt Strutt!
Falcor was VERY reluctant to get out of bed. Due to the language barrier (we’re working on it) I wasn’t able to explain to him exactly what we are doing, and he is not a morning Boy. He stays in bed as long as we do, often longer, holding his pee for incredible lengths of time. I had to pick him up and actually carry him to the door at 7a.m. so we could meet our ride in the driveway. He was not amused. When Ashley and her Biggest Beagle In The World, Ryder, showed up, he got more excited though. Falcor and Ryder are tight, and I think it suddenly dawned on him that not only were we going on a car ride with his buddy but also that Enid was still inside the house. A mommy-and-me outing was much deserved, since the Real Boy has been more than welcoming to his new sister.
We met at the race site with a brood of other friends who love their pets and animals in general enough to run a few miles on their behalf. We were quite the neon green team, with an array of dogs to drag us on the 5K.
Falcor was excited to be around so many other dogs, and well-behaved considering all the stimulus. But all that enthusiasm ended up backfiring when he took off like a shot as the race started. He, apparently, felt a serious sense of competition with all the other pooches on the run. He was, apparently, unaware of the fact that his legs are approximately 5 inches long, while many of the Greyhounds, Labs, Standard Poodles and Great Danes around us were taller than me. The Real Boy would need to take at last 5 strides for each of theirs. He chugged on like a sled-dog though, pulling me behind him. It’s actually humiliating to have a stumpy little dog show you up as a runner.
After two miles he gave up on the pulling and resort to simply keeping up the pace. Both Falcor, with his stumpy legs and chubby neck, and Ryder, with his pleasant plumpness and desire to sniff every square inch of ground in the world, finished the 5K and ran every step of the way. Good job boys!