The friends I’m visiting (well, I think visits last a few days, I’ve been here a week. Stupid ING Direct/Capitol One 360) adopted a dog. This visit is the first time I’ve met him. I think I like him more than my own dog. No joke. He’s a little bit of something and a whole lot of Cairn Terrier minus his front right leg. It’s been assumed that he was hit by a car, but no one knows for sure.
His name is Tripod.
We’ve been spending quite a bit of time together while my friends are at work. We went for a jog the other day which ended in me carrying him because he decided to just lie down 1/2 through. It was adorable.
I’m starting a juice cleanse because while I’ve made better choices during this road trip than during past jaunts, I’ve still been eating less wonderfully than normal and exercising even less. The cleanse is a bit of a reboot button on my digestive system. I digress.
This morning I decided to do yoga on the floor of my friends’ living room. Roughly 3 seconds in my “Oms” this happened:
Then this happened:
Eventually I gave up my pursuit of centered breathing and stretched muscles. When I’m done writing this post I’m going to take both he and my dog for a run. I’d like to wear them out so maybe mama can get peace. If not, I’m seriously going to call him Tripod the Yoga Destroyer for the rest of his life.