So following on from Dry January, now they’re trying to get fit!

Spandex should be banned. End of.

In the immortal words of Homer… Simpson, “Stupid sexy Flanders”.

Some things once seen cannot easily be unseen, and the sight of my two fortysomethings squeezing into running gear isn’t pleasant.

“MUST… WASH… EYES!”

We are appealing for help. We just want people to wear clothes when exercising which isn’t skin tight enough to reveal their digestive tract. It isn’t too much to ask?

Every Saturday they now do Parkrunning, which entails lots of humans taking off lots of layers and gasping and grunting around a park. Twice. Ridiculous as it sounds they seem to get some sort of buzz from it. But I am not allowed to go. No. The organisers are dog racists.

Not that I would want to go. Whenever they run and I am with them (the bad man and the mummy lady) and I get a sniff they shout and scream at me. I am not trying to trip them up, I have a job to do. Sniffing scents is not an easy job. I take it very seriously and thier grunty running must come second to sniffy detective work.

The bad man calls me Vera. Something to do with changing direction. Ha ha. People are weird. My name is not Vera.

So I don’t get to go. I get locked in the Utility Room (which smells of sweaty pants) and they play really bad reggae or house music to “help me relax”. What’s wrong with leaving me in peace for some quiet contemplation sleep? It’s impacting on my rights as a canine. It’s like the CIA and those acid fuelled mind experiments in the 60s. And they don’t have the decency to give me the acid.

At least it’s warm.

I don’t want to run. I am nearly 11 you know. I should be enjoying my well earned retirement, not having to put up with human fads and mid-life crises.

I would post pictures of the humans in spandex but it’s just too darn painful. The sight police would probably intervene to protect lives.


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