Dogging the Walk

 My morning walk is getting earlier and earlier these days, but now even at 6:30 AM it’s close to 90°. Walking in this torrid heat is stupid enough without compounding it with one’s dog. Usually I don’t take Chico with me because his summer allergies give him expensive skin rashes. But he looked so pathetic when I opened the door and shooed him back that I figured what the heck. I then discovered his walking harness no longer fit his unexercised little body. So go without it, I said to myself. Who’s going to be out on the track this early anyway?
 

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.”