Hey there, Friends! Sorry I’ve been so silent. I’ve been busy staying at Bodie’s house while Mom is off doing goodness knows what without me. She insists that it has not been fun, which doesn’t surprise me because I’M not there!
First Mom went to see my grandpeople in a place called Boston. She said that she got stuck outside in a freezing rain/snowstorm, and then her face and chest were full of poo for the rest of the trip. I don’t know what snow is, but we ran in the cold and rain all winter and none of us pooped out our faces that whole time, so those Boston storms must really be something.
Then, Mom brought me home for a couple of days before bringing me back to Bodie’s so she could do “some bullplop” called a “triathlon.” If she’d asked me, I’d have told her triathlons are dumb because anything a dog can’t do isn’t worth doing, but people are stubborn sometimes.
“It’s going to be like 40° at sunrise,” I warned her. “Bah! The water will be warmer than that…” “The weather has been rotten all winter,” I told her. “The water is going to be way too cold.” “Bah! I have a wetsuit,” she said. “The weather is supposed to be rotten this weekend,” I told her. “We’ll see how far I get.”
Mom did not get far before the hypothermia got her. She didn’t even make it to when the rain started and the temperature dropped. Once the hypothermia got Mom, it went out and got most of the other people as well. I really wish that Mom had listened to me.
I’ve learned one thing from my winter of running in the cold and rain every day, and it’s that it can be rewarding to overcome some adversity. But beyond a certain point there is no point to the suffering. When it rained so hard that our undercoats were soaked and we had rain in our eyeballs, Bodie and I knew we had to encourage Mom to go home. Because why put us through that? Life is too short to spend it doing things that suck.
Mom tried to come back and get me after the hypothermia was gone, but she found our car stuck in the mud. So she decided to make the best of a bad situation. The merch dealer could do custom embroidery, so she had him make a sweatshirt that said DNF, and she wore it as she cheered in all the poor miserable bastards who the hypothermia got after her.
-Oscar, who knew better