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Ducks and cats

Mom didn’t go to work today, so we got to sleep in and run while the sun was out! As usual, Bodie burst out of the car and started running like we were chasing a squirrel, so we were already going pretty fast coming around a tight bend. Mom, (who is taller, running on her hid legs like she does) could see over the tall grass before Bodie and I came around the corner. “Duck! Duck! Duck!” she screamed, and hit the brakes hard.

A nanosecond later we came around the corner, “That’s not a duck, Mom. That’s a cat!” “CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHTTTTTTTTTTT,” screamed Bodie, as she tore off after it down the trail. The cat jumped into the brush at the side of the trail, but that didn’t bother Bodie, who hit a gear we had never tried before, stretching the bungee on the leash to its full length. “Duuuuuuuuck!!!!!!” screamed Mom so hard her voice cracked, as she flew along behind Bodie like a kite about to take off. Since my running leash isn’t elastic, I couldn’t get as far ahead as Bodie, so I zigzagged back and forth, ducking Bodie’s line right in front of mom and sniffing the air in case Bodie had missed the cat smell and we needed to dive into the tall grass after it.

Eventually, we lost the cat’s trail, but after excitement like that how can you settle in to a normal pace? Where it usually takes us 9 minutes to run a mile at our comfortable pace, Bodie towed the whole pack along at an 8:15 pace. I thought maybe she would wind down, but she never did. Not to be outdone, Mom joined the action and said, “I see your crazy pace, and raise you by a minute!” Chicks can be so competitive, they would put themselves in the hospital before they let the other win.

We continued like that, running at a gallop, occasionally slowing down so that Mom and Bodie could play tug-of-war every time Bodie saw a long-necked feather-cat. Mom won most of the rounds of tug-of-war, but Bodie did get in one good point when she dragged Mom off the trail and about 5 feet up a grassy hill before Mom made herself an anchor. We also saw short-necked feather-cats, which Bodie chased with a little less enthusiasm. “See, Mom, THAT’s what a duck looks like,” I explained.

Finally we had to slow down, because Mom said that if we kept running that fast that she was going to poop herself. “Just make sure that you go off the trail, in the grass,” I offered, helpfully. We walked for a couple of minutes instead.

-Oscar the Pooch



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