Runner’s Log: Ruff Times


πŸ‘Ÿ  It’s still so cold.

πŸ‘Ÿ  Jacket βœ”️ Headwrap βœ”️ Neck gator βœ”️  Sense of style out the window βœ”️

πŸ‘Ÿ  With my lack of energy, I’m pretty sure I’m running slow enough to be an extra on The Walking Dead. Actually, I don’t know how accurate that is. I’ve never watch TWD.

πŸ‘Ÿ  Yeah, yeah, save your shock. Something about creatures eating brains prevents me from watching. Plus, even with their skin problems, the zombies are still more tan than I am.

πŸ‘Ÿ  Well crap. That is a dog. A VERY big dog and it is barking and growling like I resemble his next meal. I think I now know what the Hounds of Hell sound like.

πŸ‘Ÿ  Seriously though…do I run faster? Someone once told me they can smell fear and it brings out their instinct to attack. If that is the case, I’m FREAKING SCREWED.

πŸ‘Ÿ  Ok. So here’s how it played out – it came running at me and instead of doing what I always thought I would – RUN AS FAST AS I CAN – I turned around and started yelling at the dog. Yes, I had a yelling match with Cujo.

πŸ‘Ÿ  I just stuck my finger in Cujo’s face while yelling and it actually cowered and backed down. I’ll be damned. Now, I just need to wait for my heart to move back from my throat to my chest.

πŸ‘Ÿ  I know everyone else sees dogs like this:










πŸ‘Ÿ  But when I run, I see dogs like this:



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