The little engine that barely could.

Keith is in our nation's capital for a conference.  It's only been a couple of days, and he comes back tomorrow.  In the big scheme of his business trips, this one is Shorty McShort.  In his absence I am charged with walking the pups.  This is nothing new, but my current physical condition makes those walks far more interesting.

The first little issue the three of us had was getting down the steps in front of our house.  The pups know that Mom isn't good at stairs right now - they go slow and stay behind me when we're on the inside stairs.  So I figured that mindset would apply to the outside steps as well.  These are dogs and I'm working out in my mind what they are thinking.  Perhaps I should have seen that as my first mistake.  After locking the front door we all made it to the first step and, while I was contemplating, balancing and focusing, Erin and Alvin had already made it to the bottom and were headed to the walk.  The problem was that they were attached to me via leash!  I yelled at them to sit before I got dragged down my own front steps and thankfully they remember that command and sat.  They did expect a biscuit for their trouble, but they'll get over that.  So I slowly got down the steps and we started up the sidewalk.

I'm already breathing hard at this point, but the dogs are going nice and slow.  For once I don't mind that they are stopping to sniff every tree, bush and leaf pile.  We get to the corner and cross the street.  I'm already sweating and have started to waddle from side to side a bit.  As we make our way up that block, I start to walk in a crooked line.  I looked like I had been drinking my breakfast...and not in a good way...

By the time we turned our final corner and headed (thankfully downhill) back to our house, I felt like I had run a marathon.  Erin and Alvin were pulling me along and I was glad they were.  All I wanted to do was get home and not keel over in a bush along the way.  I was still waddling, weaving, and sweating, but at this point I didn't care.  I just wanted to get home.  Going up the front steps was another slight ordeal.  Let's just say that Erin and Alvin will never qualify as sled dogs.

So what is the moral to my story?  I don't really know.  Maybe it's that the definition of "normal" changes depending on your circumstances.  Maybe it's that sometimes you have to start at the bottom and work your way up.  Or maybe it's that everyone should teach their dogs to carry them when necessary.  You all can decide.