Yesterday I decided to join Jeff on his evening run. Before you die of shock let me clarify; I joined him on my bike. You didn't think I was running too did you? I appreciate the thought, I really do but I don't run. Period.

Thanks to the warmer weather and longer daylight hours the frequency which we can get a bit exercise together have increased. It's lots of fun for me. I'm really not sure if Jeff is having fun too, he is the one running after all. Betty really is the coolest bike ever. Yeah, I linked to her picture again, I can't help it. She rocks. Despite her size and weight she manages to float along the pavement with what looks like little effort from me. Anyway, Jeff and I were on our second loop of the neighborhood when out of the corner of my eye on my right I see a streak of white making it's way toward me. I'm not 100% positive but I think it was a Jack Russell terrier and this thing ran a block and a half at top speed in order to catch up to me. It's stubby legs carried him swiftly from the end of the cul de sac where he'd been to the street I was turning down. I saw him coming and not being a big fan of small dogs (sorry Mark) I made the executive decision to not slow down or swerve. He'd made a distinct effort to get to me and I was not about to slow my pace so the shit would have a better shot at biting my ankle or foot. I increased my speed a tiny bit as he came up my right huffing and growling, again I was thinking he was after my feet, seeing as how that's all the fat bastard could possibly reach. Oh no, my friends, he kept right on running and in a moment I realized his goal was to get in front of my bike. Now, Betty is no slim road bike and I am no slight girl out for a breezy ride who would balk at say, a collision. In the split second I knew he was heading up in some vain doggy effort to bring down my bike I made a decision too...to run his bitch ass down if he got in front of me. I'm pretty sure at that point I did in fact pick up my pace (I may have even stood on the pedals in my glee) and I know for damn sure my expression turned from one of alarmed surprise to smirking anticipation. Yes, I am a cruel, cruel woman. I know this. But alas, it was not to be, for before Betty could mow him down like a weed before a lawn tractor, Jeff came swooping in from my left. Running bent down to the ground and issuing a low growl of his own he took no more than three steps toward the terrier before it turned tail and ran back down the street it came from. I must admit to a slight feeling of disappointment but I laughed and thanked Jeff for
saving me (and more to the point, saving the dog, har). If there's one thing I hate more than an untrained dog, it's an untrained dog running through the neighborhood without leash or fence. Pisses me right the fuck off it does.

Funny thing, on our third and final loop of the neighborhood as we came down the same road we'd met the dog, we passed three teenagers with shaved-heads and a sort of Limp Bizkit look about them. One was carrying the terrier in his arms. I'm guessing it chased somebody else and they'd gone to retrieve it. Dude, that terrier really isn't doing much for your wanna-be punk persona. What? Your Mama wouldn't let you get a pit bull?

Beeyatch!