Runner's Revenge

The most annoying denizens in the runner's world, apart from cretins who yell out "Hot enough for ya?" and think they're being terribly clever, are dogs. Not big dogs, mind you, who either ignore me or lick me, which can actually be quite refreshing on a scorching day, but those nasty little ones—the yapping, nipping curs who look like rats with collars.

I usually handle these encounters by screaming, "Go home, you little son-of-a-b*tch," an insult that I, of course, realize loses its desired effect in the canine world…though unconsciously. I'm sure it's aimed at their masters anyway. However, I've devised a much better strategy for dealing with the Rat Dogs' feral attacks. The next time I go running I plan to take two things with me:

1. A tranquilizer-laced piece of meat, and,
2. A white squirrel skin

As soon as the little Gremlin (that's what they remind me of, those little creatures from that sci-fi movie that were all teeth) approaches, I hand him the Meat-Mickey, which knocks him out immediately. Then I stuff him in the squirrel suit, working as fast as Jim Fowler might with an anesthetized lion, realizing that any second the creature could awaken and wreak bloody havoc. Once the beast comes out of its coma, we now have a non-climbing, barking, squirrel those owners will recognize it as their psychotic FiFi only after the neighborhood cats have had their way with it.

A bit heavy-handed, you say? Obviously, you're not a runner. So let me close by saying this to my running brethren: I pledge to rid us of these yipping, yapping Rat-faced Devil Dogs, street by street, subdivision by subdivision, city by city. By the way, just so you won't think I'm totally demented, I'm not killing the squirrels, I'll be utilizing the omnipresent roadkill. So it's not animal cruelty, it's community service.

(Originally published May 2002)