I had a nightmare that all the cats I harassed had ganged up on me. But they weren’t attacking me. They were killing me with kindness. Waving and saying hello or meow or whatever they say. And to add insult to injury some of them were holding happy birds which I’ve also harassed in the past. It looked something like this:
Found in a cave in Austin, Texas, this is an early drawing of a dog running:Dogs ran on two legs in those days it seems. They sort of shuffled real fast, hunched over like an old man, or a butler carrying a service tray. We’ve evolved since then. More feet on the ground equals faster run times. When will you humans ever learn? Somebody has to start the trend. Go ahead. You do it. Run like a dog.
As a dog, it ain’t easy to blog. I got a lot on my mind and I don’t always wanna share it, you know. And there are so many other things I’d rather be doing than writing words, things of importance such as eating and sleeping and smelling and relieving myself on a tree. Which is why I like to let The Dog Runner take over blogging sometimes.
But when I’m ready to do it, I do it. Still, to write a really good blog, as a dog or as a human, requires a lot. Here’s how the process works for me.
First I start thinking. And the very best way for anyone to start thinking is to put on a big pair of glasses. The bigger the better. It just makes those thoughts pour out. I’m thinking of so much. I can solve the Rubic’s cube and world hunger. But I can also come up with something fun to write about. The big glasses method usually works.
If big glasses method fails, I go out to Central Park and look at the little boats I hate so much. I bark at them and do some more thinking. And if something pops up, I try and make sense of it. Very transcendental this method. I call it the “waiting for the ship to come in method”. I’ll get an epiphany or two every so often. Floating out there somewhere upon the open waters is a great idea waiting to be had. When I grasp it I get to writing.
And if that doesn’t work, I’ll go to The Dog Runner’s running shoe store. I’ll go up to the shoe mirror and do some self-reflection. Think about myself. Think about what I want to say. “What have you been up to lately?” I ask Runderdog, which is me, but also not me because I’m asking my reflection. But my reflection is actually asking me the question as well. So I think is it me or the reflection asking? Maybe neither. And sometimes this works and sometimes it makes my head hurt and makes me cranky. I call this blog-storming method “the self-reflective inspirational and sometimes torture chamber caught in a circle mirror method”.
If none of these methods works for thinking of a blog, then a good night’s (or day’s) sleep surely will. In this method everything comes out perfect. I write beautiful works of art and sentences come out effortlessly. Often my legs twitch and then I start to run in my dreams. Running and writing. The perfect combo. It’s called “the dream run and write method”.
The Dog Runner ran with some police in Central Park yesterday. They weren’t NYPD. Known as Jack’s Pack, they are a group of London Policemen who come to New York once a year to raise awareness in the fight against kid’s cancer.
This year the 92 members ran a half-marathon through Central Park. The group was featured on CBS News before the run. JACK Foundation was formed in 2008 to bring support for Jack Brown who suffered from Neuroblastoma, an extremely aggressive children’s cancer. Go, Jack’s Pack. Fight the fight. Die Cancer.
As I wander through these streets of New York, righting the wrongs and wronging the rights, I run into a lot of dogs along the way. I’ve gotten to know some of them better than others. Some I avoid, because I don’t like them, or because I’m afraid (rare but true) of them. Some I will chase down from a mile away just to get a whiff of what they’re up to. Here are just a few dogs I know which will most likely play prominent roles in my adventures:
BUDDY: My buddy. Runderdog’s sidekick. Notice how he kicks on his side. He’s great, right? Here’s Buddy’s other side:
Buddy’s a great sidekick mostly. Sometimes he’s lazy but I give him a break because he lives with 3 cats that keep him up all night with meows and hisses and knocking picture frames over. He likes the sun, lounging on his side on the sidewalk, and licking people. He dislikes whatever I tell him to dislike.
MARLENE: The Femme Fatale. We are currently not hanging out. She’s acting as if she’s too good to speak to me. She thinks she’s a movie star but she’s not. She’s trouble. But I like her. Isn’t that always the case?
CURTIS: The cub reporter. Curtis wants so much to get the scoop that he resorts to spying on dogs in apartment windows. He doesn’t realize how much he sticks out like a sore thumb wearing his Red Sox cap in Yankee land.
LOLA: Town gossip. Town crier. She’s got a big mouth. I don’t believe half the stuff she says. But every once in a while there’s a grain of truth…
RUNNING STORE DOG: Another dog that won’t talk to me. He knows I’m just trying to get the scoop and he won’t give it to me. Come on, Running Store Dog. Can’t even look me in the eye. Why can’t you be nice like the girl in the video behind you?
These are all dogs I like, even the ones that don’t talk to me. I will give my enemies their due at a later time.
Many people have asked this age old question. And I’m about to reveal the answer.Take a look at this man. He’s one of the few people who can really say he’s tired. He’s not only too tired, he’s two tired. Yet he keeps going. Even though the others have Donlop-ped him once, maybe even twice, around this track of life, he keeps going. While you, you just sit on your butt. Think your life is a drag? Get over it. You’re just lazy. So get out there and do it, man. Or woman. Or whatever the case may be. Come on! No more hydroplaning through your life. Keep on treading along. You’re gonna have a good year!
I’m not a big dog myself. You could put me in the small dog category. I’m part Terrier and part Dachsund. But I carry myself well. Especially out on my runs. No one really messes with me. It’s usually a couple of friendly sniffs at the corner while we’re all waiting for the light. And then when the signal changesI give them a nice bark and run ahead on my way to run down to the river.
There are certain dogs that bark or growl at me when I run by them. Usually I could give a dog crap about these guys. I know their bark is worse than their bite. Usually they are small breeds with inferiority complexes. These little ones, the Yorkies and the Chihuahuas always wanna bark. Usually you’ll see an owner with two or three of these little guys. They seem to come in packs. And their owners tug at them while they spin around like little demons on the sidewalk. They try and get at me and I just run by and laugh. Dog Runner pulls me over to the other side of the sidewalk but I know they’re not going to get at me. Let me at ’em I say. I’ll give them a scare.
Most of the time, big breeds like Labs and Pointers want to play with me. But if they get too rough and try to jump at me, I’ll bark at them and growl myself. I don’t want a bunch of slimy gook on me. And I don’t really have time to play. Gotta run, yo!
Most of the time when I meet a dog out there, I can size him or her up in no time. Everything’s fine and dandy and we’re friends (or we’re not and the Dog Runner runs me by them really quickly). Though I gotta say there are a handful of dogs out there that really piss me off. Some of them really get under my skin on a regular basis.
They get under my skin because they ignore me. Yes, that’s right. They just flat out stare ahead like they can’t even see me, or can’t be bothered with my presence. And the Dog Runner keeps me there for whatever reason. I guess to deal with it. I don’t know. He laughs about it. It’s not funny. They really bother me, make me angry and I growl and bark and want to get after them. Take this tool of a dog for instance:
I really let this guy have it. I sat there and barked at him for what seemed like ten minutes and nothing. I jumped at that chain link fence and I thought he would move or something. But nothing. It was cold that day so there was a slim chance he was frozen. And he hadn’t been groomed. He had grass and twigs on him so maybe he was embarrassed about that. No reason to ignore though.
What about this guy:
And these guys:
What’s going on in that store? No wonder you’re ignoring me. You should be ashamed of yourselves.
Sometimes people ignore me. But people in New York are self-absorbed, deep in thought, in their own little worlds. I bark at them for a little bit, get it out of my system and go about my way.
This guy ignored me and I hiked my leg up and took a leak on him:
But, yeah, it’s usually the dogs, you know. Ignoring is just not nice. It’s not even nice when you get all famous and you think your doggy doo is made of roses.
This guy certain thinks so about himself:
I barked at him for a long long time. He really is larger than life in person. I didn’t expect that and I was a bit, shall we say, starstruck. I just, yeah, you know what, I just wanted an autograph. That’s all I was trying to bark at you. And you couldn’t even get off your skateboard and give me that. Whatever, fame boy. Tillman, I shall pee on your skate wheels. I’ll see you in doggy hell.