A dog is the only thing on this earth that loves you more than he loves himself. - Josh Billings

I was getting ready for my scheduled 2-miles this morning, sneaking around quietly while Grizzly lounged by the front door. Mr. Crabs had left about half an hour earlier for a two hour (hour!) bike ride and I wanted to get out quickly while the sun was still below the tree line.

Carefully, I pulled my shoes from the bottom shelf of the rack by the side door and set them on the floor. That must have set off some alarm in a frequency beyond the realms of human hearing because one second later Grizzly was nuzzling up against me.

"No, Grizz. No running." Obviously the only word she took from my effort to lose her interest was "running". She let out a long Wookie growl which I know from previous experience means "let's go RUNNING, mom!". I sighed as she stretched, and tied my laces. No way around it - I was going to have a running buddy this morning.

She has a neon pink harness with reflective paw prints that is joined by a six-foot leash to a padded waist belt for me to wear. I put my half of the get-up on as she ran to the back door and sat patiently, tail wagging in anticipation of exciting running!.

We have a ritual when we go running together, where I ask for her paw to place it in the harness, then she refuses to put it on the ground so I can get her other paw into the harness as well. I'm never sure what she is trying to accomplish, because we both know there is no running unless she is wearing her neon pink gear. After about three or four rounds of this, she gives in and she is leashed and ready to go. Of course by now my GPS watch has lost its signal so we have to pace around the yard until it locks onto the satellites again.

So we're finally out the gate. We turn onto the main road and immediately a fit guy on a nice bike in spandex riding gear passes by in the opposite direction we've just started down. I recognized very quickly that it was not Mr. Crabs (besides the fact that he still had nearly an hour and a half of his ride left), but Grizzly looked at me, confused, as if to say "Dad?". "No Grizz, not Dad," I told her. She didn't believe me.

She turned and tried to follow. I pleaded with her to come with me, but she stood alert, focused on the bike fading in the distance. Finally she reluctantly followed me, but she stayed a few paces behind. Sometimes she'll do this on new routes because she is afraid of the unknown. Today she was doing it so I would turn around and go home. That's worked in the past in her favor, but not today! We were only a third of a mile into our run, after all! I cheered her on until we hit the mile-mark and turned around, and she decided to pick up her pace. Going home! 

I really do love running with Grizzly. I can talk to her and feel not quite as crazy as if I was blabbing away to myself. If I give her a pat on the head and tell her "Good running!", she breaks into a jaunty trot for a few strides. She is always willing to go out with me, even when she's just come in from running around the yard and the heat index is over a hundred degrees (in which case I have to make her stay at home!).

To be honest though I'm not sure if she really loves running because it's fun, or because she knows when we get home we get to play in the pool...