But recently I have become sick and tired of coming home from work and tapping in to my newest addiction, Grand Theft Auto IV on the Xbox 360, and, also, did I mention that Oliver is a fat-ass? So I figured I would kill two birds with one stone. Exercise, outside air, and, perhaps, some melting of Oliver's rotund black-and-tan bowling ball body.
[The idea of taking both Oliver and Louie with me on my 'blades flitted ever-so briefly across my mind and then I reasoned with myself that nothing good could come of that. I'd either end up splattered against the grill of a Mack truck or Ollie would be dragged behind me as I would be dragged behind Lou...kind of like an elephant parade with my dislocated shoulders being the nasty orange Circus Peanuts. So...Lou stayed home.]
Ollie and I departed Home Base.
Now, listen, I didn't expect Oliver to be Louie-esque in his pulling ability--seriously, when Lou is on a Rollerbladed leash, I don't have to even think about skating for the first four or five blocks; I just have to concentrate on rolling, standing tall, not wiping out--but Ollie completely disappointed me. He ran with me for the first four or five minutes, but then, after that, he was basically dead weight. I had to repeatedly stop for him and wait for His Pudgy Highness to catch up. Three times, during the too-short jaunt around the block, Oliver's collar just slid right off his neck--slid right off the rolls, as it were--because I was going too fast. And once I had to pick him up and Rollerblade around a corner with him in my arms...a floppy-eared canine lamb.
We arrived back home, and I chatted and Ollie became acquainted with the neighbors and then we walked in the side door and Lou, excited to see his little buddy again, smacked him upside the head a couple of times and went off to chew his bone. My human-to-canine translating skillz are a little dusty, but I think what Lou was saying was, "You fool! You had a chance to run outside, spend some quality time with the Foodbringer, let your oversized ears flop in the wind, check out the bitches...and you blew it, dude! Whassa mattah with you? Geez!"
Don't worry, Louie. Ollie and I will go again. And you and I will, too. Just don't go too fast, y'hear? You have to remember that I ain't a tough Boxer/Pit like you. I am a human being and my skin does shred and my bones do break.
In other news, my 2002 Ford Focus hatchback turns one hundred thousand in a hundred fourteen miles. If you want to send it a birthday present (cash is what it wants; it told me) just hit me up with an email and I'll give you the pertinent information.