Gar loves to run early in the morning, for miles, and miles, way to far for me to even comprehend why it is so rewarding to him.
He belongs to that elite class of long distance runners for whom getting out of a warm bed, and rushing out in the cold drizzly rain is not a punishment, but a joy.
I am never, ever, going to see this as anything other than cruel and unusual punishment. Sorry, just can’t go there.
Like Gar says, “when pigs fly!”
Bootsie on the other hand thinks that it is perfectly legitimate for Gar to love to run so much. Because when it rains, Gar’s sneakers get wet, and then he puts them in front of our little heater to dry.
Bootsie thinks heat is wonderful, Gar thinks running is wonderful.
I think it would be wonderful if pigs could fly.
Kind of a symbiotic relationship isn’t it? Or maybe it is just that I am the dysfunctional one.