Everybody. Everybody and his dog. While the little guy usually stays pretty close, the sight of another dog, someone running, a moving bicycle, or any combination thereof, throws him into a frenzy. Time and again I had to stop, pick him up, and carry him until a reasonable distance from the jogger/dog-walker/cyclist was established. Obviously, I ended up carrying him most the 1.5 mile distance. Which meant I couldn’t keep up my usual brisk pace. Which meant most the shade along the trail had evaporated by the time I reached the halfway mark. Which meant both of us were sweating, panting, and tongue-lolling-out-the-mouth exhausted when we finally staggered through the door.
I believe Tennessee Ernie Ford would call it “plum tuckered out.”