I read an article somewhere about pets. I have conveniently blocked it out of my mind because it hits a little too close to home for me.
The article said that after a while people started to look like their pets. And after listening to myself breathing, I have to agree in part. Does sound like their pets count?
A couple years ago, I bought the most beautiful minature Pug. For a day or two, I wrongly thought she was a boy. And the most original name I could come up with, was Puglsy. Thank goodness she was a pretty little girl, who was christened, Arwin. Or to those that know and love her, DemonDog. Said exactly that way because she is a bit of a terror.
I thought I could take her running with me when she was still young enough that that was only a dream. My aunt kept telling me to forget that dream because Pug’s have squishy faces. And as a result, can’t breath very well.
No wonder I picked that breed. It sounds like me. Minus the squishy face.
I do have to admit though, that when I run I sound exactly like my dog. Since she has the squishy face, her nose is a little pushed in and dogs apparently don’t breath through their mouths. They do pant through their mouths. Just like me.
That is why I wear headphones. I don’t want to hear the laboured breathing that is me. The snuffling and the snorting. Just like Arwin. Except she has a reason.
And when I run, the sound of my feet pounding on the ground. No criminal could bear to hear the stomp, stomp, stomp of my feet.
I am reminded of that childrens joke, “What do you call something that goes 99 thump?” I can’t remember the punch line, but I think it goes something like “Terri running.”
I wouldn’t trade DemonDog, or my own running style for the world. We are both unique in our own special way.
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