Re-thinking Dog Loyalty...and whether or not "re-thinking" is hyphenated

In an attempt to make up for a youth wasted on Sega Wonderboy, I was jogging through my neighborhood this morning. As I passed two children playing on their front lawn, a dog ran out to explain to me, in dog terms, that I was not wanted. He stopped just short of the edge of the lawn. He followed along at my 4 mile-per-hour pace until I was clear of his territory.

It was a warning. I don't hate him for it. I did, however, notice that he wasn't wearing a collar. That means that there was no invisible fence. He was probably trained to only go so far. I doubt that the owners used the old "beating" method to teach him this behavior so, I can only assume that they used treats for training.

Training a dog is easy:
You call him to the edge of the lawn. You gently tell him to go no further. You hand him a snausage. In 2 weeks, he wouldn't cross that imaginary line to catch a cat with a steak tied to its face.

That sucks.

I'm a dog lover. I love me some dogs. Dogs need to be better than that. If you've deemed me a threat, you need to take me out. Dogs are essentially saying that they'd rather have a treat than save the lives of helpless children.

You can blame the training all you want. That dog has a responsibility. Human life is worth more than Gaines Burgers. Suck it up, dogs.

I should retract something from the first line of this blog. My youth was not wasted on Sega Wonderboy. It was fulfilled. That game was the pinnacle of civilization. From the ages of 10-to-12, I logged more hours playing Wonderboy than sleeping What was I supposed to do, read? Would time have been better spent at the park?

You show me the park where a 10-year old can buy mead and boots that make him run faster and jump higher. Caz park had zero mead stands. I always hated that about Caz park.

If you never played Sega Wonderboy or visited Caz park, you're probably wondering what my problem is. It's you. You're my problem.

Also, have you noticed how jogging no longer exists? Thanks to Nike, you're running. There are two forms of human motion, walking and running. When I was 8, and Donny was chasing me with dog shit in a rag, (true story) I ran. Now, if you pick up your feet just high enough to breath a little heavier, you're running. No one uses the word "jog" anymore.