My mom is truly a fitness fanatic. She works out three or four times a week at the gym. When the weather’s decent, she takes me for walks.
In fact, that’s why she adopted me. When she took me for my first check-up at the vet, she wasn’t there for my health. She was there for her own benefit. “Will Gracie be able to go on long walks with me?” she asked the vet. “That’s why I want a dog.”
From the beginning, I was set up to be an accessory. I’m not loved for my self and my scintillating personality.
As if that weren’t enough. Cathy worries that I don’t get enough exercise. So every Sunday, while she works out at the gym, I’m in the Downtown Dog Lounge of Seattle. Fortunately the staff is not nearly as fanatical. They sneak me treats and let me snooze on the couch while Cathy thinks I’m running around chasing other dogs. I play with my special group of friends. I help out at the reception desk. They use me for temperament-testing when new dogs apply to join our pack.
This morning Cathy warned me, “Gracie, I’m off to the ballet this evening. I want to see my favorite female dancer, Kaori Nakamura, perform the lead in Swan Lake and this will be my last chance. So you’ll be crated up for at least for hours. Better be tired.”
No problem, Mom. I am zonked. I slept all afternoon. We’re both getting older. I don’t need to run marathons anymore. And a few more treats won’t wreck my midlife figure.
Good thing Mom didn’t have human kids. They’d be ready for boot camp by the time they reached college.
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