"Running Commentary"
Woof! Notes
Hello. I’m Boulder McGraw! Woof!
I wrote my first column for this newspaper when I was practically a baby – only 11 weeks old. A lot has changed since then, so I thought I’d give my loyal readers an update. I’m almost 5 months old now – a couple more months and I’ll be a REAL dog.
Unfortunately, to most people, I’m still a puppy.
Everyone I meet says, “Awww … what a cute puppy.”
Puppy? Seriously?
I know they mean well, but here’s the deal. (That’s one of my daddy’s favorite expressions – “Here’s the deal …” I don’t know what it means, but it must be important because he sure uses it a lot … so I’ll continue to follow his lead.)
Where was I? Oh yeah, here’s the deal – after a while, the puppy label gets a little old. It’s like an older dog who was the last of the litter being called “Mamma’s baby boy” even after he’s grown up.
Actually, my grandma says that about daddy!
He was the last of her litter. And believe me, that was a loooong, long, long time ago. Probably even before the invention of dog biscuits.
Can I be frank? I’m bigger than a puppy. When I wrote my last column, I weighed around 16 lbs. Since then, I’ve more than doubled that. My Aunt Sara in Virginia (she’s a nurse at the University of Virginia Hospital) – she knows dogs, and she predicted I would weigh over 40 lbs. when I grow up.
I’m close. I now weigh 38 pounds.
It's ironic – Daddy wants to lose 10 more pounds, and I want to gain 10. It’s a shame there isn’t a machine we could hook up to together – like a Weight Transfer Station? Why Not? Scientists think of everything else. Then again, probably not a good idea to mess with Mother Nature.
Something could go wrong.
Daddy might grow a tail and I could go bald.
Meanwhile, my life is constantly changing. When I was little, Daddy used to pick me up all the time. No more! This is one of the downsides of growing up – now when he tries to lift me, he just groans like he’s getting a hernia. I worry he’s going to dislocate a vertebrae – Daddy’s not as young as he used to be.
The way dogs count, Daddy’s almost 15. ANCIENT!
But for an old guy, he’s pretty spry. You name the distance – I’ll bet my dad could beat your dad or mom in a race. He runs almost every day, sometimes five or six miles — in less than an hour. Not too shabby for an old guy. (That’s another of Daddy’s favorite expressions – “Not too shabby.”)
(Memo to self: Remind Daddy it’s time he moved on and came up with some other clever clichés.)
Do I run? Ha! What a question!
Do puppies poop on the grass? You betcha!
I love to run, and Daddy says I’m a natural. I run right next to him on the leash, and he only has to tug a few times when I try to stop because something smells interesting. Here’s the deal – there are some amazing smells on the street. Try dragging your nose along the pavement – you’ll see what I mean.
Same thing with digging in dirt and grass. I don’t even know what I’m looking for, but if something moves down there, it’s probably nutritious. I eat just about anything that moves. And some things that don’t.
Another reason I wanted to write today was something Daddy said last week in his column. Here’s the background story – the morning he wrote that, I was sleeping soundly in my crate; however, around 4:30 a.m., I started barking.
Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!
Here’s the inside poop on that – any form of whining or barking at that hour translates to, “I GOTTA PEE! LET ME OUTTA HERE!”
Daddy wrote last week that it was an unholy hour to take a puppy outside to water the weeds. He said he was so tired and sleepy, he would have been tempted to trade me for a couple of donuts.
I want readers to know – Daddy was joking.
He would never trade me for two donuts.
A box of a dozen, with chocolate icing? Mmmaybe.
Daddy has this “thing” for donuts – the force is hard to resist whenever he walks past the donuts at Rod’s Market. I’m not allowed to go inside – but I’m inclined to wonder if Rod set up a hidden fan to disperse the aroma – that automatically switches on every time a customer walks past? Don’t be naïve – how come all those donuts are gone by 3:00?
Rod’s one of those people who said I was a really cute puppy. Rod seems like a stand-up guy, OK? But don’t be surprised if he’s behind something nefarious at the market. Anyone who eats three donuts every morning? I’d call that behavior very suspicious.
That pretty much brings you up to date. I’m Boulder McGraw. If you see me on the street, it’s OK to say hello and pet me. Just don’t call me a puppy, OK?
Say something like – “For a BIG DOG, he’s not too shabby!”
That’s the inside poop from the pooch this week. Until next time …
Woof!
Note: R Michael Owens contributed to this article, correcting numerous spelling and grammatical errors. Also, last week when he said his sister Faith didn’t look a day over 100? Daddy was just kidding … sort of.