I don’t think about it, actually. In the mornings when I’m out walking with Dad, and I’m not clipped to my lead, I really enjoy a quick trot. Maybe a quick dash from tree to tree. It’s joyous. In the afternoons when I’m out with my Mom, and she lets me off lead, I’ll do the same. Usually she gets up ahead of me and I’m lagging behind, smelling whatever I can find, and then I see her up ahead and sprint to her. A few times she’s made a game out of it, and she’ll start running, “Come on, Joey. Let’s run” and I do. It’s a nice game. I get an infusion of energy and life.. “Come on, Joey. Joey’s running!” she says, all the way, maybe one block, maybe less, to our front door. Sometimes she arrives first, and sometimes I do. Either way, she makes a big deal out of it.
Yesterday she took me to Cat Rock Park. It was a nice day. I got to run and toss myself about, gayly and there were a lot of other dogs there and we really galavanted about, swimming and socializing. but have I had my final run?
Dad doesn’t run with me any more. After a while I just can’t make it up that big long hill any more.