Depression weighed my head down and barely let me drag my feet as I tried to jog. I needed some endorphins. Bad.
Ahead of me a pug wandered aimlessly beside the busy road, dangerously close to oncoming traffic. I shuffled lethargically to it’s rescue and picked it up. It had a collar on but I found no owner in sight. However, a nearby gate was ajar and a car in the driveway so I approached the house to see if the pug had escaped from there.
Within seconds of knocking the door swung open and behind it stood a man wearing nothing but sunglasses, his member swinging like a pendulum from the force of the door opening. I struggled to look anywhere but directly at it. The dog was wriggling excitedly so I held it in my outstretched arms and willed the owner to take it so I wouldn’t have to bend down.
He did take it and, after declining his invitation inside, thanked me profusely as I hurried away from his doorstep. I giggled, then laughed hysterically while I tried to pick my feet up to jog. Once I had calmed down my head was a floating balloon and I ran for 30 minutes with a beaming smile on my face.
On my way back to my house the poor little pug was out on the footpath again. I left him there that time.