Dog Punt

Today, I ran outside! This is an accomplishment given that I have heretofore been able to run just 25 mins on the treadmill and that's, let's face it, just not the same thing. Anything that is propelling my legs to move whether I exert the effort or not is hardly the same as moving my own damned dimply, weak, wiggly leg on my own. The only drawback to running outside was the YET ANOTHER yippy, little wiry-haired asshole dog that came running at me and Sake and scared both of us almost enough that we lept across the street in a single bound. And once again, when I screamed at the dog to "GET AWAY! GO! GET OUT OF HERE!," the owner fell all over herself to apologize as she scampered after the dumb thing. I didn't say anything to her but hurried my dog away noticing that his hair was standing on end and his lip was quivering; the sure sign of his usual dumb-dog-that-bites-my-legs-so-I-kick-his-ass attitude. I was thankful that I didn't react as I did the last time this happened. And that was to tell the owner, in a clenched teeth, barely containing myself way, "I WILL kick that thing all the way to hell if you don't get it away from me."