DADDY MADE ME GO "FOR A RUN" — I DID NOT CONSENT
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.
What follows is a photographic record of my collapse. I ask that you view these images in the order presented.
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.