Tuesday, August 23, 2011

It Was A Ruff Walk.

So, we've got this dog, right?


Like good doggie parents, Aaron and I have been trying to get in the habit of taking him for a walk as often as possible. Which, as you may guess by the shenanigans I mentioned in yesterday's post, didn't really happen this weekend.

I felt bad.

Last night as I left work, I thought, This is it! I'll make it up to him! Billy Corgin and I will go on such a long walk that he won't even know what hit him!

Instead - I was the one who got hit with something.

I had packed up my CGM receiver, phone, glucose tabs, lip balm, and plastic bags in my not-a-fanny-pack-dang-it, filled up a thermos with water, coaxed him into his harness and leash, and off we went.

With a pre-sweatbetes blood test of 84, and a Juicy Juice and Nutrigrain bar freshly deposited into my bloodstream, I felt confident that this walk would be epic. I would get through this without a low. Billy and I would stay hydrated. I would do that polite head nod thing to our fellow pedestrians, and Billy would happily wag his tongue at them, and we'd get our workout on like normal people.

It was going to be like this:


You may have guessed where this is headed.

First, he was a poop factory, and I ran out of plastic bags. (Sorry, neighbor on the other side of the 'hood - I'll bring more bags next time.)

Then, he'd start pulling away from me (like he needed to do his thing), but instead he'd just plop down in the grass to take a breather. "No, dude, keep walkin'. We aren't even halfway yet." And so I'd tug, and he wouldn't put his legs out under him until the last second (the last second being the one before he hit pavement). It felt like dragging a pancake on a string around. I felt like a horrible dog mom, certain that the driver of each passing car was mentally chastising me and my unsophisticated canine motivating skills.

When we had reached our halfway point at about the 30 minute mark, we both took a water break. I had noticed that my legs were feeling a little bit noodley, and took a gander at my CGM.

Say it with me: Nooooooo...



I was lucky that little William was content to sit in the shade while I shoved my face with glucose tabs recovered.

And when we finally got going again, but I still didn't feel great, he seemed to know that it was now his turn to be the motivator amongst us.


It's cool, Mom. I'll take it from here.
He's a good pupster, that Billy Corgin. He's a keeper.

10 comments:

  1. I love this story! They are such good kids...always knowing what we need, and when we need it :)

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  2. I have to admit - I laughed when you referred to him as "little William." I love animals with full and formal names. :)

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  3. wow, you even make ME want to have a dog -- and I still haven't gotten over my infantile fear of them!

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  4. I love that dog! Billy is amazingly rad. That last pic is so cute.

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  5. Minor obstacle for us D-veterans. I'm just glad it was still a blogworthy "Today" day and not a "Bullet with Butterfly Wings" kind of day!

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  6. Looks like all you needed in the last picture was some skates. He could have pulled you home.

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  7. I am sorry to just bust onto your blog and comment in caps on something somewhat irrelevant, BUT YOU NAMED YOUR DOG BILLY CORGAN?? That's brilliant! That's awesome! I wish I had thought of it.

    However, I am sorry about your low blood sugar issues. Isn't it strange that sometimes it can drop so quickly during exercise?

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  8. Maybe he was sitting until you dug into your "not a fanny pack" and had some of the sweet stuff. Smart little William, I'd say!

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