I'm back to walking two miles a day. I go up and down our small hills at a fast enough pace that usually at least one of the dogs tires out and goes back home before I'm finished. The two older dogs, Seal and Arlo, would rather stroll and sniff bushes than powerwalk. Some days, all three dogs desert me and I came home to find them all on the porch looking embarrassed. I tell them it's OK.
The other day I forgot to pick up my hand weights as I left the house and didn't miss them until I was too far to want to turn around and go back from them.
Clever me came up with the perfect alternative:
COWBONES!
Years ago, a cow died off in a hollow on the neighbor's property where part of my walk takes me. I've been eying those bleached bones for quite awhile now. In a moment of caveman inspiration, I waded into the dry grass and rummaged around until I came out with two upper leg bones. Then, I continued my walk, swinging those big heavy bones like a modern-day Wilma Flintstone.
This is how I came home. Three very surprised dogs fixed their eyes on me from the porch.
Sometimes being the human can be an awful lot of fun.
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