Odd Days: Colorado Dogs

I've heard that 60% of Colorado households have dogs. Although the number might sound high to you, it sounds low to me. I'm quite certain the dog population rivals the cockroach population.

I, myself, have never wanted a dog, and the reasons are simple: 1) I don't like cleaning up poop; 2) I don't like cleaning up dog hair; 3) I don't like the designs that dog toenails carve into hardwood floors.

Nonetheless, I occasionally yearn for an enthusiastic running and hiking companion. I rarely see another hiker or runner without her trusty friend padding along beside her. So I started to think...maybe I could hire someone to pick up poop. I could get a dog that doesn't shed, and I could insist that Rover wear booties in the house -- like all self-respecting NYC dogs do (remember?). At least I would have my running partner.

But then I met Trike.

Trike lives on a horse property just across the county road. We met when I was running by one day and Trike decided to join me for my run. I made half-hearted attempts to send him home, but in my heart of hearts, I was hoping he would come along. And he did.

Then, about two miles into our run, I saw a car coming down the road toward us and much to my horror, Trike trotted to the middle of the road to greet the car. He just stood there as the car barreled down the road straight at him. I start screaming at Trike to "come" but apparently he didn't speak English. I didn't know whether to run out and rescue Trike or cover my eyes and hope for the best.

Trike never budged and the car careened around him. My heart rate gradually returned to normal and we continued. I'd like to say that was Trike's last near-death experience, but it wasn't. By the end of the run, I had been flipped off, cursed at, and glared at. One fellow stopped his pickup and said in a quiet but menacing voice, "You really should keep your dog out of the street."

By the time we finished the run, I was a wreck, but Trike wanted to come live with me. He wouldn't leave, so I called the phone number on his tags and told the owner to come get him. Then I said sternly, "Trike's not afraid of cars. He almost got himself killed! 15 times!" And the owner said, "Yep. He's just a puppy. Hasn't learned that bit yet."

I'm obviously not ready for a dog. No siree.