P is also for Pasha, an eight year old Pug. If Pasha was a car, she would have two gears: D for Dawdle, and P for Park.
Being a tad on the chunky side, Pasha’s veterinarian prescribed a weight-loss regimen. This program involves daily walks of at least 30 minutes in addition to restricted caloric intake and other forms of dog torture.
Pasha despises exercise. Her idea of aerobic movement is to heave herself up from the sun-drenched family room floor and lumber three feet or so into the kitchen for her meals.
When her owner gets the leash out, Pasha slumps to her side, hoping to delay the inevitable. She rolls onto her back as if to say “Look at this belly. Don’t you want to rub it? Its all warm and toasty, too. I’m really comfortable where I am but if you’re restless, feel free to go without me. I’ll be right here when you get back.”
Against her better judgment, and with a tug on the leash as gentle encouragement, Pasha struggles to a stand, then stalks indignantly to the door. Once outside, she immediately squats to do her business, then pivots and strains toward the house. “All done! Don’t you appreciate how efficient I am? No need to linger. Let’s go back in!”
Her owner insists and the walk, such as it is, begins. Halfway down the block, Pasha glances back at the house longingly, and then her gear shift goes into Park.
She stands glued to the pavement, head low. Its not a challenge. Its a statement. “I ain’t moving” her drooping ears, rigid back and slack tail say.
To motivate Pasha to get moving, her owner has tried squeaky toys and low-cal treats. She tried pleading and cajoling, all to no avail. Pasha is planted and once her paws take root, the only direction she will go is a U-turn.
The simple solution to this problem? An exercise buddy!
Pasha’s canny owner called another Pug owner who agreed to meet up for a test run, um, stroll.
Turns out that Pasha was ecstatic to have some canine company on the dreaded walks.
Which had a very positive effect on her girlish figure.
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