I’ve been itching to run since returning from Philly, but due to returning so late on Monday and staying out late last night, I postponed a run until today. Again, I got home late from work, so I didn’t lace up my running shoes until nearly 6:30 p.m.
Upon filling my water bottle to jump on the treadmill, Hank and Salem gathered at my feet. Rather, Salem sat at my feet and Hank paced in the background. I could tell my sweet, aging dog had some energy to expend, so I decided to treat him to a quick warm-up run down to the mailbox at the end of our cul-de-sac.
Hank leapt with anticipation as I grabbed his leash, and like a dog on the Iditarod, he yanked me down the street at a pace I couldn’t keep for very long. Immediately, I knew his new pain medication must be working well. He bopped along to the mailbox and skipped all the way back to the house.
Then I had the bright idea to forgo the treadmill and go for a quick two-mile run with Hank.
At first, we both ran with fervor, thrilled to be outside, in the fresh air, and getting all our pent-up energy out. We made it a solid half mile at a comfortable pace with Hank in the lead. By the end of mile one, Hank was falling behind and panting heavily. I encouraged him and slowed my pace.
By the turn of a big corner onto a very slight downhill, a bit past the halfway point, Hank was a whole body length behind me. I took my jog down to a fast walk and gave him some time to catch up. I could hear him dragging his nails across the pavement as he tried to stay with me. The pain-free puppy in him was gone and he was back to being an aged, arthritic dog.
It took us nearly 35 minutes to “run” two miles, a time that’s usually a 5K for me. By the time he saw our front porch, he hurried his slugging walk to a trot, no doubt because he saw the finish line, and proceeded to drink an entire bowl of water upon going inside. Then he found his bed and collapsed.
I continued my run on the treadmill so I could at least get in four miles today. Hank’s been napping ever since we returned, which tells me that while those new pills may be working to lessen his pain, they aren’t going to peel back the years and give me a brand new puppy.
As I type, he’s at my feet keeping the tips of my toes warm. However many more days, months or years I have with Hank, I will be thankful.
