Pluto

I was recently asked to dog sit/walk a dog whose owner was off to England for medical treatment. She needed to treat a dislocated shoulder or torn ligament caused by none other than my new charge-to-be, Pluto. Pluto is a very, very big dog who, according to his owner, likes to pull hard on his leash, which, if it happens to break suddenly, may cause the person on the other end of the leash to lose balance and fall and dislocate a shoulder. I was a little hesitant to accept her offer.

I did accept, of course. How can one refuse under such circumstances? I soon discovered that Pluto not only pulls hard when he sees other dogs, he has a very complex (though fortunately mild mannered) psyche, one which does not allow him to relate to strangers (me) easily. He won’t come near me voluntarily. When I picked him up for his first walk, he had to be dragged to the door by the housekeeper. I then had to drag him to my car. Fortunately, he’s one of those car-lovin’ dogs, the kind that will drive with their heads out the window, so there’s never a problem getting him into the car.

In all honesty, I volunteered to help dog sit Pluto in part because I imagined this would be a great motivation for me to get out and get some jogging in a couple of times a week. This wasn’t to be. In addition to Pluto’s immense size he also sports immense girth. Let me put it plainly: Pluto waddles like a giant sausage with long legs. I try to take him for a run and it’s me pulling him along. After two miles, he’s done. I’ve considered pulling him along for a couple more laps around the fitness track, but am haunted by the image of Pluto collapsing on me.

I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining. Pluto has a good, gentle soul. We’re getting used to each other; he no longer runs away when I call him over. And I swear he’s already lost a few pounds.