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Today Mom got a bug up her butt to go for a long run, so we went to The Wetlands that Smell Like a Fart and just ran and ran and ran and ran until we found the end of the world. I used to think the end of the world was the water fountain where we usually turned around, but ever since a few weeks ago when we discovered that the trail kept going, we now knew that the end of the world was an impassable muddy patch. This morning the muddy patch had dried out enough to run on, and we found that the world kept going even further still. Bodie chased the new smells until we found where the word really does seem to end for sure, almost exactly 7 miles from where we parked.

On the outward leg of our expedition to The End of the World, we had met a chihuahua mix taking his two people for a walk. When I lunged to ask him what the heck he thought he was looking at, and why wasn’t he looking at ME, Bodie nudged me to remind me not to be an “asshole.” The chihuahua’s people noticed how she had me whipped, and said something about it. Luckily I’m secure in my man-dog-hood. Mom (who is usually shy on leash because she knows she needs to protect me from vicious dog-aggressive humans) made friends with them for a little while before we went on to find the end of the world, and the chihuahua family walked the other way, (no doubt reflecting on what a fine, mature, evolved young man I am for letting a couple of girls boss me around).

I was feeling fantastic for most of the run, but as we got back inside the known universe, I started to hit the wall. My strong and sleek legs began to feel heavy, and everything felt like it took a tremendous effort. I was a 300lb dog running through thick syrup instead of air. I let my head hang and had Mom tow me along by the leash. Bodie and Mom seemed to be doing fine, but after 13 miles they mercifully let me take a walking break for a few minutes.

As we ran the final mile and a half along the road back to the car, we met the smug chihuahua and his friendly people. I wasn’t in the mood to ring the chihuahua’s bell anymore, so I just told him with doggie telepathy, “Don’t worry, she’s friendly,” and tried to get Mom to run past without engaging with the other humans. No such luck. “Have you been running this whole time?!” asked one of the chihuahua’s people. “I think you’ve lapped us.” “Not this whole time. Fatso over here needed to take a walking break about half a mile back,” Mom said, pointing at me. That seemed like a particularly low blow. I’ve been on a diet! I haven’t snuck any snacks from the counters while mom is at work since Bodie got here, and I’ve been doing extra jiu jitsu training with Bodie every day for strength training. “Well you know what I call people like you?” said the chuhauhua-person (I assume referring mostly to me). “I call you superstars.”

Eventually Mom tore herself away from her new friends, and I plodded the last million, billion, trillion miles back to the car. Once we got home, Mom made me take a bath. So once *she* left the house, I broke into my food stash and ate it all up. So there.

-Oscar the Superstar



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