My Dachshund Friday

At first, I decided not to run with Levi. He only weighs 8 pounds. He's afraid of everything. His feet are tender and I'm pretty sure his vision is terrible. But it's not fair that the other guys got to try. I sneak Levi out of the house and get his leash on. His tail whips the air, but he keeps quieter than Theodore ever could. I don't understand how two dogs of the same breed can be so different.

Levi empties his bowels in the neighbor's yard. I'm thinking it's panic, but I'm still grateful he got it out of the way early enough for me to leave the bag at home. Levi runs alongside me, but he drags almost immediately. His ears are pinned behind his head like they always are when he's scared.

"Don't worry," I tell him. "I'll keep you safe."

He doesn't believe me. The ears stay back.

I wish he trusted me, but I can't really blame him for feeling insecure. Levi would never see danger coming. He won't recognize familiar people coming until they're standing right in front of him. Even then, it may be the sound of voices that clues him in. Levi jumps when leaves blow past and other dogs put him into a tailspin. He almost runs in front of a car when he sees a mailbox on the corner. Who knows what the mailbox wanted to do to him?

It's easy to be patient with him, though. After all, I never expected he'd be able to do this. At home, sometimes his toenails break off and he leaves bloody paw prints on the floor. Running four miles could wreak havoc with his manicure. I might have to carry him home.

But, slow as he is, scared as he is, Levi keeps running. We turn the corner and head south. The road stretches out in front of us, wide open. On this stretch, there's no sidewalk, so we have to get into the street. Levi picks up speed. His ears relax. He runs into the middle of the lane. I can't believe it. I wonder if he sees the space and realizes nothing will jump out at him like it could in the more enclosed space of the sidewalk--or does he realize we're headed for home and he's running to safety as fast as he can? Either way, this is a much nicer pace.

Levi's doing so well, I don't even cut our loop short. We run the whole route and Levi doesn't show any signs of flagging. Finally, I slow to a walk. "Good boy! You did such a good job."

He ignores me. No tail wagging. No adoring look as he walks with me. Levi's normally affectionate, so I don't understand the cold shoulder. At home, I get the adoring look. He tries to lick my nose and then heads off to play with the others. I realize, with wonder, that this was the smoothest run yet. Go figure.