Let's go fly a kite

Walking Jersey was an experience much like a tug of war against a bigger, stronger opponent. One could only hang on hoping against hope there would be no residual rope burn on the palms before being dragged through the mud pit which was the clear indicator of winning or losing the battle. One could never win at this demonstration of "Feats of Strength"

She was a big dog.  She was 75 lbs of muscle and never quite got the idea of walking calmly on a leash.  It was always quite the sight seeing Alexa flying like a kite tied to Jersey's leash when they would go for a walk.  Jersey was oblivious as she powered her way down the sidewalk, Alexa yelling "HEEL! JERSEY, HEEL! HEEL! STOPPP!" at the top of her lungs until her cries were silenced as she was pulled further and further away.  Jersey was always on a mission and nothing would deter her.  Heaven forbid she would see a rabbit or a squirrel.  All hope would be lost as Jersey did her best to say "hello" to the critter who would have run away at the speed of light at the sight of the big, orange dog bearing down on it.

I on the other hand was better equipped to rein Jersey in.  I make no claim at superhuman strength though I thought I was Superman when I was a kid; "Faster than a speeding bullet! More powerful than a locomotive! Able to leap tall buldings in a single bound!" The truth was I was a scrawny 10 year old with a dish towel pinned to my shirt, running around the house with arms stretched out in front of me.

For some reason Jersey would respond to the sharp tug on her leash and my deep Basso Profundo command of "EASY!" She would usually slow down and stop straining at the end of her leash, walking easily next to me as if she didn't have a care in the world.  Generally exuding an air of "What's all the fuss? See? I hear you. There's no problem."

We had a couple of routes to walk when we lived in Colorado.  They would generally be up a hill (which seemed more like a mountain,) down the sidewalk, along the paved path which took us through the copse of evergreens to the green space at the far end of our development, finally wending our way back home.  Yet no matter how far we walked, how much she pulled or how hard I pulled back against her, I could never tire her out.  It seemed logical that the strain of being held back and a long walk would be enough to have her drop into her bed and pass out.  Not Jersey.  She'd only be energized, wanting more, asking to go for another walk.

Unfortunately, I'd never be able to accomodate her.  I'd be the one passed out on the floor, my chest heaving as I gasped for breath knowing I'd have to slather Ben-gay on my sore shoulded muscles.

Jersey had it figured out.  I swear she knew if she wore us out from a leashed walk, I'd be more inclined to take her to the dog park where she could run free.  She wouldn't have to be concerned with our pleas to stop or running fast enough to keep the kites flying.