My dearest Murr:
Can I remind you of something?
You love to run.
I’ve seen you at the beginning of a trail run, sprinting back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth. Your tongue hanging low; a big grin on your face.
You’ve clocked up to 15 miles at a time on the trails around Bellingham, and you’ve loved every second of it.
So, when we hit the streets of Ferndale for some nighttime running, can you just do me one big favor?
Just pretend the leash isn’t there.
Pretend I’ve unhooked it and you are free to run back and forth and back and forth and back and forth as you please.
Because I know you are not tired. I know you can do more than one mile. I know you can go faster than a 12-minute mile pace. You prove it to me every time we return home and I unhook the leash at the end of our driveway. You take off at a dead sprint around the front yard, despite the fact that I’ve just spent the last half hour practically dragging you six feet behind me on the leash.
I want to keep running with you, I really do. So please, next time I put on my running shoes and grab the leash, just pretend your on Galbraith or sprinting down the shoreline at Cherry Point…pretty please?
P.S. The crackling of the fireplace isn’t going to hurt you, I promise. Neither is the kitchen floor you slipped on the other day. Neither is that little chihuahua who barked at you on our walk last week.
P.P.S I’ll love you always, my 80-lb teddy bear.