Jess goes home at lunchtime to take her dogs out and play with them, so I ran her way one day this week. It’s so nice to be able to get outside and STAY outside (and it’s so nice that her new apartment is well within running distance). My run was…not good, but I got to Jess’s place and joined her and the dogs in the dog park.
And then I was attacked.
That sounds bad.
I was attacked in a friendly way by her two giant boxers who have forgotten their manners. It’s just as well I was sweaty and wearing running clothes because I ended up with dirt all over from muddy paws and slobbery faces. Ick. Got a couple of claw marks on my arms that faded quickly. I am not used to that anymore. Howdy and Daisy are far too old for playing rough, Lilly won’t come near me, and if Ginger wants to fight me, I’ll just sit on her. Roxy and Riley hadn’t played rough for YEARS before they died, and I don’t really know any other dogs. I certainly wasn’t hurt, and I definitely wasn’t scared (they’re big friendly beasts who just want to play, and 30 seconds later, they want to curl up in my lap and snore), but it was unexpected. And then I felt weird about being thrown by it.
I miss my puppies.