A Short Walk

A couple of months ago, Roommate sent me an email at work, informing me that she'd signed us up for a breast cancer walk. It would be the first Sunday in October, she wrote, but it was only a 5K. I was bathed in relief. I can walk five kilometers.

What? I can so! Look, just because I whine and moan doesn't mean I can't walk. I...just like to avoid it. And for once, I wasn't concerned about myself.

I'm sure we all remember that Roommate's grueling 3-Day Walk was a mere two weeks previous. Her shins are still a trifle put out by her behavior. I read aloud M.'s advice to her [oh, she was so touched by the kind words! I keep forgetting to relay her thanks to all who wished her well--thank you!!!!] Naturally, being who she is, she did the walk anyway.

We are now officially out of tape. Note to self.

Oh! And we saw a woman wearing this on a hoodie:



Still giggling.

Anyway. When we arrived at the courthouse plaza, the starting point of our little walk, we were delighted to see all the dogs who had signed up to participate. Conveniently, they brought their humans along. Roommate and I realized then that we could have brought our beasties, too.

Of course, it was probably a good thing we didn't bring the furry children. They tend to get a little excited when meeting new people. Well, Bailey and Tuppence Marie get "excited." Maddie....rouses from her coma.

Hey, she's old. Don't judge.

I could just imagine what it might have been like, had we brought the dogs. Probably something like this:

Tuppence Marie: Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Here's my belly! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!

[This would sound a bit like "Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh!!!!" and have the vocal effect of a cross between a timpani and a machine gun.]

Beagle Bailey: Hi, who are you? You smell GREAT! Hi! Hi, who are you? You smell GREAT! Hi! Hi, who are you? You smell GREAT! Hi! Hi, who are you? You smell GREAT! Hi! Hi, who are you? You smell GREAT! Hi! Hi, who are you? You smell GREAT! Hi! Hi, who are you? You smell GREAT! Hi! Hi, who are you? You smell GREAT! Hi! Hi, who are you? You smell GREAT! Hi! Hi, who are you? You smell GREAT! Hi! Hi, who are you? You smell GREAT! Hi! Hi, who are you? You smell GREAT! Hi! Hi, who are you? You smell GREAT! Hi!"

[The boy dog varies between actual screaming with excitement and making a noise that sounds like, "Bow-WOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Imagine a clarinet in the hands of a sadist.]

And then there's Maddie Mae, who says: [blink blink] Hello.

Miss Maddie doesn't talk a lot. No, really. It interferes with her napping. When she does, it sounds a bit like a tuba. Or a cello. "Woo. F." She says this when she wants to go out. Or come in. Or get a cookie. Or her dinner. You know, the Important Stuff.

So there we were, dogless in another sea of pink, walking for the cure. And while I appreciate the opportunity to exercise [cough] I really think it's time to kill this disease.

After all, cancer, to use the vernacular, sucks.