Yesterday, it was dreary and drizzly in eastern Michigan. The kids and I had long day but I still had more as I was a reluctant volunteer at a fundraiser that evening. So, I did not want to walk the dog! I didn’t have time—I still had to get ready, and I was peeved that I had to go out when I was tired. No, dog, take a nap!

Arrgh! DaBronx looks at me with those sad brown eyes.Fine, fine let’s do something.


The backyard is far as I’m going today. I thought about tossing his toy out for him to catch, but I admit, I was annoyed, so I pretend to throw it. He goes for it, hunts around in the grass, realizes there’s no toy there, and comes back to me. Ha, I think, and pretend to throw it again. Again he goes, again he discovers, again he returns and gives me a patient stare. Yea, well, if I’m annoyed, you are going to be too. (I’m not proud about it.)

We go through this exercise quite a few times. Actually, I was really surprised he indulged me as long as he did. But that last time, old Bronxy boy came charging back, not slowing down, and ran into my thigh with his head.

His little annoyed reaction was actually funny. Annoying but funny. He trotted away from me out of my reach but kept looking back to see what I was going to do. I turn on heel, indignant, and head for the house. Apparently Bronx was sorry, so he runs up to me circling me to let me know “don’t go”. I throw the toy to the back of the yard and as he heads for it, I continue for the door. Well, I should know my dog is smarter that. He stops dead, turns and tears for the door. Fine. I head back out to get the toy. Oh, no, girlfriend, you can’t have that—Bronx runs to beat me to the toy. Have it your way dog. I head back to the house. And this back-and-forth goes on for bit, too.

Eventually, I head to the house for good with my boy, give him a good rub and treats. In all, we spent about 15 minutes outside.

The point is—and I do have one—getting the dog some physical activity does not have to take major preparation. Sometimes, it’s just goofing off and playing around. In fact, to your dog, it’s always play.

(And I was much less annoyed as I left the house.)

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