Mama's Boy

So I realize that this blog, although followed by many because of the amusing stories of Stella has become some days most days, posts about me complaining or babbling on about something. A blog? Maybe. A “Dear Diary” entry? Most of the time. Thanks for being so patient….

But today, this blog post is about Scupper, our first “baby.” So I’m training for a triathlon. (Yes, I can’t believe it either, considering how much I have hated running in the past). It’s in September, so I’m half way there with my training, and my brother is also flying out to do it with me (and since it’s a “sibling” thing, my parents are coming too to cheer us on so now it’s a “Family” thing and sure, no pressure… No, seriously, I’m actually very excited about it all, but excitement only gets you so far, and so thus, the training.)

On Friday after work, Steve suggested that we all go down to Dog Beach and let Scupper chase the ball and Stella splash and run head first wade in the water while I do my swim for the day. (Friday was a swim day. See, with a triathlon, you unfortunately have to run, bike and swim and thus, training 5-6 days a week in each of the mediums). So I put on my wetsuit at the water’s edge, watch Steve chuck a ball to Scupper, and see Stella eat sand. All is good. I secure my goggles and head into the causeway that goes out into the Pacific that runs along the edge of Dog Beach. A perfect natural lap lane, if you will. Easy tides for Stella to play in, for Scuppy to splash in, for Mommy to swim in. I begin, and even though the occasional kelp gets in my line of vision, it’s actually ok. I lift my head out of the water briefly to sight ahead, to make sure I’m going in a relatively straight line. BARK BARK BARK. Wow. Who’s dog is that? I keep swimming. 6-8 strokes later, I lift my head again to sight. BARK BARK BARK. I look over.

Oh yes. That’s MY dog. Scupper is following me along the edge of the shoreline (because, although he has webbed feet, refuses to go deeper than his chest and does NOT swim). “Scupper, go back to Daddy. Go!” I duck under again and keep swimming. BARK BARK BARK. I hear Steve’s piercing whistle below the water calling Scup back. He’ll go, I think.

I keep swimming. I lift up to sight. BARK BARK BARK.

My dog follows me the WHOLE LENGTH OF THE BEACH until I finally give up and get out of the water to walk back to Steve and Stella, who at this point, has a diaper full of sand.

Workout, FAIL! is all I can think. Oh well, nice to think that Scup cared so much about my safety (or whatever it was) to keep the “pack” together.

But that’s not all…

On Saturday, we all head to a little land mass that juts into Mission Bay – Fiesta Island – where there is a nice 4.5 mile loop without much traffic so I can ride my bike and do a run. (a double workout. Ugh). There (conveniently) is also a dog park here too. So Steve goes, I’ll take Stella in the backpack and Scupper to the dog park and you ride your bike and run. Ok. So they go into the fenced-in portion of the island and I get on my bike. Scupper sees me take off and runs along the fence-line between the dog park and the road, BARK BARK BARK. He keeps following. I keep riding. I’m going about 15 mph and Scupper is keeping up. Steve whistles. I assume Scupper will stop. Um. No.

WORKOUT FAIL! I have to catch scupper at the edge of the bay (where the fence line stops) and drag him by his collar back into the park, my bike shoes and cleats crunching the whole way. Steve then leashes him until I can ride out of sight.

Oh well. I guess I should be flattered.

But I also think I’ll try a workout WITHOUT him next time. ;)