Today, I raised my fitness game from a Stage 10 Sofa Addict to Level 1 Pavement Pounder. I invested in some majorly comfy footwear to help me in my new quest and they’re awesome. Like walking on marshmallows. You’ll probably have heard of Skechers Go Walk shoes:
They ain’t so pretty but who cares when you feel like your landing on a bouncy castle with every step. They’re worth every penny. I paraded, like an Olympian, in front of my significant other (who’s an all round sporty type with more than a dozen marathons under his belt) this morning in my ‘sports’ gear and all I got was an eyeroll. I don’t know whether he has a death wish or just likes sleeping on the sofa but instead of reaching for the frying pan, I spun on my homey heel and headed out.
Now, I’m not going to turn into a fitness bore, I’m writing this post in relation to a completely different gripe that I have. I’m tempted not to complain about it at all because I know it won’t make me very popular with dog lovers but I live by the seaside and today, which was cloudy and breezy, I fancied a power walk along the promenade in a neighbouring town, for a bit of variety.
The trouble was so did every dog owner know to man, it felt. My problem with that is I’m not a dog lover. I like dogs…on leashes…under control. I like my sisters obedient little dog. He’s cute, he’s familiar and doesn’t terrify me.
I don’t hate dogs either. The problem is, they’re off leash, they’re wet, sandy, slobbery and as much as I’m a clammy, sweaty mess myself, I don’t like it when they bound up to me, winding their bodies round my shins and jumping up on me. I deeply wish some dog owners could understand that not all people love dogs the way they do and most especially young children.
My youngest son has a fear of dogs and has done since being barked at, right in the face, by a King Charles Beagle, at 18m old. He’d step into traffic to avoid walking near one on a pavement. It got to a point where he would cry and want to leave the beach in the summer because of the dogs running wild in the good weather. Wet noses in your picnic, jumping on the kids and scraping their bare skin with their claws. I’m an adult and I don’t like it. Imagine being 2 ft tall and a great, slobbering, barking dog comes at you running.
So apologies dog lovers, there you have it, my first, of what might become many, moans on my blog. I may have to rename it, the Daily Moan.