The title kind says it all, but it's a pretty good story, so I guess I'll go on.
So, as a result of my recent knee injury, I haven't been running much (read: none). But, the pupper still needs to get her runs in. I've always thought that when I go out on my trail runs with her, I should throw my Nike+ GPS watch on her to track her distance compared to mine. I've often joked with people that if I run 6 miles, she's probably doing more like 10 or 12 miles.
It's part of her breed. Rory is an English Pointer and they are bred to be hunted from horseback in the great prairies out west.
But since I went out this time knowing full well that I wouldn't be doing any running, I figured, "Hey, now's a good time to find out how much she actually runs!"
So we headed out to a new park, about 20 minutes down the road from me that seemed pretty promising. It was a park designed and maintained for mountain biking, which to me means good trail running! And the park definitely was that! Once I feel comfortable enough with my knee, I'll be headed back there for a few runs on my own.
The trails were good terrain and Rory was off-leash, meaning she could run wherever her little dog heart desired. And her dog heart often desires to run in the weirdest patterns. I knew going in to this that the map the Nike+ would create for this run would be erratic, like one of those old Family Circus cartoons of Billy's adventure's around the neighborhood. And I wasn't too disappointed!
I would say I'm pretty proud that my average pace is faster than hers, but she tends to opt more for "speed work," alternating between dead out sprints and complete stops.
It was a pretty good hike for us, until it got a little creepy towards the end. Random guy just stopped, staring into the woods, deep in thought. That alone was enough to make me a little nervous, so I stuck to the edge of the lake where the view was more open. And then things got creepier when there were randomly placed long stem roses along the lakeshore... AWKWARD?
Rory and I hustled back to the car, not necessarily anxious to be done for the day, but ready to get the hell out of dodge, if you know what I mean. And it wasn't until we were getting ready to climb into the car that, as I was wiping down her feet, I noticed my poor little kitten was bleeding!
(Side note: Yes. I call my dog "kitten" sometimes as a term of endearment.
I know it's confusing, but she doesn't care, so I do it. You don't like it? TOUGH COOKIES.)
Turns out, somewhere along our adventures in the woods, baby girl had sliced open her right leg. Pretty deep actually. After a few days of keeping it clean and bandaged and her chewing off every bandage I put on it, I ended up bringing her to the vet. They decided to shave it down, glue it shut, and staple it closed just for safe measure. And, to add insult to injury, in order to keep her from chewing on it, she had to wear a cone until it heals.
I guess the old saying is true after all...
It's all fun & games until someone ends up in a cone.