Grand Larseny

tires the crap out of me. Not quite literally, but I think you understand the sentiment.

Every morning I take her running in hopes that she doesn’t go and do something stupid with all her energy like eat the entire tree in our backyard. We’ve had mixed results with that.

This morning, however, was different. I really don’t have any clue what happened, but she decided to be as difficult as possible. She didn’t even just stop, letting me drag her. That would be too easy. No, instead she decided she would let me do the running for her.

How’s that, you ask? How do I run for her? Well, quite simply, she just lets her legs move limp. Imagine dragging a child with shoes made of, like, iron or something. It would be easier if they just didn’t move their legs, but if they let their legs move, but don’t actually put forth any effort it becomes much more difficult because you’re basically moving their legs for them. Also, instead of overcoming a small amount of kinetic friction between the iron boots and concrete you have to deal with a constant application of static friction. Much more difficult.

The strangest part of all, though, is that she really didn’t care that I was semi-dragging her. I stopped a couple times to see if she was really curious or anything and she literally just stood there. Didn’t move one muscle.

I don’t understand this dog.

Right now I’m writing this outside about 30 minutes after our run, with Kate (oh, that’s my dog, by the way) just in front of me lying down. I guess she got worn out a bit. Maybe? In any case, she can be really great at times. She doesn’t seem to want to challenge me at all, but she’s got a whole lot of learning, and a whole lot of puppy energy, to wear off.

Oh, here’s a picture of her. Goodnight, internet.

xoxoxoto