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DADDY MADE ME GO "FOR A RUN" — I DID NOT CONSENT

posted by MISA ✿ 7:58 AM ✿ mood: deceased ✿ distance: too much of it

Every so often my father gets an idea. You can see it arrive in his face. He looks at me — a professional resting animal — and he says the words: "wanna go for a run?"

And I, being a fool, being an optimist, being a dog who hears the word "go" and stops processing the sentence, say YES. And then we are outside. And then we are still outside. And then we are continuing to be outside, at speed, for no reason, with no food at the end of it.

Misa standing in tall bright green grass in harsh sunlight, squinting at the camera, wearing a pink and purple patterned collar
This is the exact moment I stopped. Daddy called it "a nice jog." I call it a hostage situation with sunshine.

What follows is a photographic record of my collapse. I ask that you view these images in the order presented.

Puppy Misa lying flat on a sunny green lawn with legs stretched out front and back, seen from above, dry brown leaves nearby
Exhibit A: he said "one more mile." I said "this is where I live now."
Puppy Misa lying flat on sunlit green grass seen from directly above, hind legs stretched straight out behind her among a few dry brown leaves
Exhibit B: the body, as recovered from the lawn.
Puppy Misa's two hind legs, paw pads and tail stretched out across green grass beside a dry brown leaf, seen from directly above
Exhibit C: my legs have filed separately and are no longer taking instructions.

I lay in that grass for what scientists would describe as "a while." A leaf landed on me. I let it. I had nothing left.

✎ Walks: yes. Sniffing, ambling, stopping to fully investigate one specific fence post for six minutes: yes. Running: no. I have said this. I keep saying this.