From Savory Cafe in Takoma Park, to Big Bad Woof on the DC side of Takoma.
To Mugsy, this was similar to doing the Appalachian Trail all at once.
He's doing perfectly swell on the leash, despite having limited or no leash training before ending up in foster care. But, even so, twenty minute walks will exhaust this guy for now. Maybe once his strength and confidence have normalized (with a lack of exercise comes a lack of muscle development comes, well, quick fatigue), he'll be able to go further.
My confidence in the apartment-compatible tiny dog was completely shattered after adopting Hank from WHS's DC Animal Shelter (the big one on New York Avenue). What started off as a meek, shy, reserved little dog turned into... Well... Hank.
Hank takes few things seriously, but, really, play is no joke.
We have things to do!
Throw that squeaky pig. Now throw it again. And again. And now let's go for a run in the park. Okay, now let's play fetch with the same stuffed toy carcass for twenty minutes. Okay, now...
Hank plays. Like it's a job.
I began to feel that high-rise apartment dwellers should just look into Greyhound rescue (retired racing Greyhounds are the best kept secret in city living, by the way --they truly appreciate their retirement) and wait for a ground level place to adopt a ten pound ball of fire.
Well, I might have to revisit that position.
Mugsy doesn't really understand exercise.
He doesn't really get the point.
So I still think all dogs deserve three walks a day, but I guess Mugs' walks should just be a little shorter than, say, Hank's. Or maybe a little shorter than those the Greyhounds up the street go on.
Snuggling, cuddling, and napping, though. He definitely understands those concepts. Affection is his strong suit.
He's learning to navigate toys. I guess I can see where a giant stuffed lobster with rattles in its claws might be difficult to wrap your head around when you've just had a pretty big couple of days.
Eve
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