JOEY COME BACK!
Let’s just start with the fact that I always leave the house loaded down with stuff. I don’t know what it all is but I move stuff from my house to my car, to my office, back to my car and back home again every like a roving gypsy. I am my own pack mule. I have books, and bolts of fabric, I have totes with papers and a purse, a phone and my ever-lovin glass of ice, or is the proper word iced tea? In and amongst all the things I have strapped to my body and carried in my arms, I have the leash that is attached to Joey. Somehow, in closing the house door and opening the car door I unwittingly let go of Joey’s leash this morning. Joey is aware of his freedom faster than I am and he flies up the driveway dragging the leash behind him. I call him, he turns, he glances back over his shoulder once and then like Prison Break he takes off up the street. I drop all my worldly possessions and take off after him. Joey is slowed down by the anchor of the leash dragging behind him, which is to my advantage. However, my strappy little sandals make my ankles wobble like Gumby legs and my new lavender push up bra is slapping me in the face, which is to my disadvantage, and ultimate horror and embarrassment. I run like the dickens up the giant hill. OK, it isn’t a giant hill but more like a slight incline but I am so out of shape it might as well be Pike’s Peak. The out shape thing is a realization that is just dawning on me. If you never have to run fast, long or hard you don’t know how out of shape you really are. In fact, you might think you are in great shape because you don’t break a sweat getting up to open the refrigerator or get the mail. But try the 50-yard dash my friend and you will see in a hurry how out of shape you are. So needless to say, I’m huffing and puffing after about 50 yards and I have leg cramps. I feel the plaque hardening in my arteries with every step. I am inches away from a heart attack. Maybe I shouldn’t have had the mint chocolate chip ice cream last night, or the four nights before that. I’ll have to remember this moment the next time I open a half gallon of ice cream. As I stop to catch my breath, I realize I am still holding onto my little bag of Herr’s potato chips. Yes, it is the breakfast of champions though you wouldn’t know it from my workout this morning. I am waving the bag of potato chips at Joey hoping he will think they are his treats. I am calling his name as loudly as my painfully out of shape lungs will allow. I round the top of the hill gasping for my last breath and there he is, as still as can be, pooping. This is my only chance to snatch him up because I am running out of steam and so I charge ahead running to step on the leash handle before he takes off. Unfortunately, my blurred vision, which is surely due to a lack of oxygen, causes a slight miscalculation in distance and I slip on the wet grass and slide into Joey and his poop. Joey is stunned. I am stunned. And the neighbor’s lawn crew who have been watching the suburban housewife in the pointy little sandals and bouncing boobs run her heart out are falling down laughing. I have no words to speak. I am too exhausted to even pick myself up and so I lie there with Joey licking my face. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. As my mind starts to clear the first thing I remember is that, these sandals cost $120.00. The thought of my cute little sandals covered in poop is enough to propel me to an upright position. I am up in a flash. I assess my damage, which is more to my backside than the shoes. I grab my little white dog and I go home. I even give a passing wave to the lawn guys who cheerfully wave back since I gave them something to laugh about all day long. It was not a pretty picture and for once, I was glad I didn’t have my camera with me. And Joey – he is under house arrest. I am going to get one of those mountain climbing caribeaners and attach him to my belt like a set of janitor man’s keys. And I promise I will start to work out. Right after I finish the chips and the rest of the ice cream in the fridge.