Pete Seeger’s song – which, according to Wikipedia, is actually the last book of the Eccelesiastics – is racing through my head as I think about last night’s run.

I’m training for a marathon. We’re into week 12. Six weeks to go. Three more weeks of hard work, than the taper. Oh, how I can’t wait for the taper!

Thing is, marathon training is a lot of drudgery. Yeah, there’s the long runs. Those are rough, but at least I have company for those. But the middle of the week runs … 25-35 miles of just me, the road, and whatever my workout for the day might be. There aren’t a lot of easy 3-, 4-, or 5-milers in there. It’s a lot of hard work.

That training program, combined with a job that requires me to work countless nights and weekends, has left me precious little time to run with Gus this summer.

Jaime has become his new running buddy. And while they don’t go as often, or maybe even as fast, I have no doubt they have just as much fun as Gus and I have on our runs together.

That doesn’t mean I don’t miss him, though. As I’m cranking out a tempo run and I pass a woman running with her lab, I feel badly that Gus isn’t with me. My brain knows Gus and speedwork don’t mix, but my heart disagrees. Vehemently.

Last night, though, left me with a 5 mile run, a husband at work, and a dog who had been cooped up all day; so Gus and I headed out together.

We ran towards the beach. I told myself I was just going to go 3 miles (didn’t want to push a sore hamstring, and it was already late). Gus, though, knew the beach was close and seemed so excited that I didn’t have the heart to turn us back.

Am I glad I didn’t. I let him off the leash, and pure joy was in his face as he chased the waves and seemingly flew across the sand.

His grey coat glimmered in the moonlight, much like the way the light bounces off the waves hitting the breakers.

Any pain I was feeling went away. All the loneliness and boredom I’ve been feeling on my runs melted away.

For 5 miles, it was just me and my best friend, doing what we love.

Last night was the season for that.

No more of that. So we’re going to ease back into it with an update on our beloved Gus.

He still is at daycare twice a day. He still likes some people and not others; still likes some dogs and not others.

And most importantly, he continues to delight us. He surprised us by remembering his Grandma. Who he only sees a couple of times a year.

He surprised us by behaving perfectly when our neighbor’s dog was an unplanned houseguest for an afternoon. This is a dog that lives to terrorize passerby if they even think to look his way.

Gus is doing well. Thank you for caring. We’ll send more updated, and tell you a little about his cousin, Zoe, and his soon-to-be cousin who has yet to come home.

And this weekend, we’ll also tell you about the greatest dog toy ever invented. And quite possibly, the most expensive.

Each night, after dinner, Gus pulls a toy out of his basket and plays with it for a few minutes before lying down. Sometimes it’s a tennis ball, sometimes it’s rubber Chuck-It ball, sometimes it’s a squeaking stuffed animal.

We never know what he’s going to pull out of the basket, but if we’re watching something on tv, he inevitably picks the loudest toy he has. Tonight was no different, but on the loud toy nights, since he’s not getting into trouble, we just turn up the volume and bear with it.

Then, out of nowhere, he got up, and headed back to the toy basket. And pulled out the Booda Tug Toy. We’ve had it for probably going on two years – and he probably hasn’t picked it up once in that entire time. Sure, he’ll play with it if we offer it to him – but he never picks it up.

Or never did, anyways. Tonight, he pulled it out of the basket, trotted back into the front room, and settled onto his bed to have a good chew. Jaime and I looked at each other and just laughed in disbelief. Our Gus is a nutter. We love him, but there is no figuring him out!

Gus whined with excitement as we pulled up. Gus doesn’t care about the asphalt and the smells probably make it even more enjoyable. We got inside, and met Carter, a six-month old Weimaraner who could have been Gus’ runt-sized twin. He was adorable, wanting nothing more than to fetch and run. Sounds just like someone else I know.

There we were, the four of us, talking and minding our own business when a fluffy dog that probably weighed about 40 pounds came running over. And went for Gus, biting his neck. Gus isn’t one to take abuse, so he snarled and barked at the instigator. Unfortunately, that did little but antagonize the muppet even more. Before I knew it, the pair were a snarling, barking mess. I didn’t even think twice; I dove into the scrum so I could pull Gus out.

The muppet’s owner came running over; she couldn’t have been more than 16 years old. She apologized and pulled her dog away. He came back. She returned and grabbed him, then leashed him to leave. Gus and I returned to our fetch, but before I knew it, the muppet was attacking Gus again.

Thankfully, Carter’s owner jumped in as well. He helped the young woman get the dog back in its harness; I guess he had slipped out at the fence. I held Gus, who wanted nothing more than to return to playing. I felt badly for him; he hadn’t done anything wrong, but as I stood there and kept him from playing, I’m sure he thought he was being punished.

After they left, Carter’s owner told me about how that particular dog always was seeking out trouble, going for other dog’s necks. I was amazed they were willing to return to the park, knowing what can happen.

Even more amazing? The dog and the girl returned, with what looked to be the girl’s mother. And wouldn’t you know it, when they came back in, the dog attacked Gus, even more viciously than the previous times. Gus, at this point, was beside himself. He just kept trying to jump into my arms, frantic. And there was nothing I can do. It’s impossible to keep a dog from biting your dog if that’s what it really wants to do.

Carter’s owner, amazingly, came to our rescue again. And they say chivalry is dead. The attacker and its owners left at this point, but the damage had been done. Gus was beside himself, and when I looked him over last night, I found scratches all over him — even his beautiful little mug.

He’s been down all day. And so have I. I understand that sometimes dogs have bad days, or get irritated, sparking aggression. What I don’t understand is not respecting that aggression and avoiding the dog park; or heading out once your dog acts out. I know your dog needs exercise; so does mine. But when Gus is a mess, we don’t expose the rest of the world to it. We cope on our own. Please, please offer everyone the same respect as you would want for yourself – and your dog.

Gus could be THE reason for the cliche that dogs love fireplugs. He absolutely must smell – and then mark, or pretend to mark – every fireplug we pass.

He has an an absolute love affair with fireplugs. Or at least he did until yesterday.

Last night, I decided to take Gus to the park. The park that’s been underneath a foot of snow for at least a month. The park that is being re-seeded. The park that, now that the snow has melted, is a field of mud. It was like walking through the LaBrea Tar Pits. Each step I took, I sunk at least 2 inches. My feet were covered in muck after about five minutes. Gus, being lower to the ground, was covered head-to-to in five minutes.

All that said, I knew he needed a good play, so we stayed. In case he wasn’t dirty enough from running, he laid down in the dirt. Ran through the baseball fields, so he had two-tone dirt. In short, he was more mud than dog.

As we left, a house with mud five feet up the walls flashed before my eyes. The floor I had just mopped? Wouldn’t be clean for long. Our furniture? Oh my.

What to do? Our neighbor hasn’t brought her hose out. Gus and the bathtub are like Israel and Palestine. A wet towel does little more than smear the mud around.

And then, like a beacon in the night, glowing under the streetlights, I saw it.

A fireplug, opened just enough to let a spray out. A spray that might be strong enough to get the major dirt off without being so forceful as to hurt him.

So there we were, standing in the street, struggling in the stream. Eventually, he gave up fighting, and just stood there.

A couple walked past and had a good laugh at our predicament. I’m certain it was hilarious to see us – me standing in the street in this stream of water, holding Gus between my calves, splashing water on his belly, paws, and, well, you get the idea.

All I could think was, how will I explain this if the police come cruising up the street? I’m sure there is something not entirely legal about what I was doing.

Once I had cleaned him up as best I could, I turned us towards home. I’ve never seen Gus so excited to be heading home. He alternated pulling with all his might with giving me the stink eye for three straight blocks.

It lasted well throughout the night, the stink eye did … but all was forgiven this morning. Not so sure the fireplug will be forgiven so quickly.

A thought like that crosses my mind at least once a day. Do other people who live with animals have similar thoughts? Is it just because I recognize the brevity and fragility of a pet’s life? Is it because I realize how little we know about our pets’ health and have so little control over their lives? That I am just so well informed that I know they can be taken from us in an instance? Or am I just paranoid?

In the interest of full disclosure, I am a worrier. Always have been. (And yes, I recognize that this is the spot in the post where I should make a witty reference or two to a time in the past when I worried needlessly. However, I am neither witty nor have a good memory, so you’ll have to take my word for it.)

I research every seeming illness/injury that Gus has on the internet ad nauseum. Anything you want to know about bloat? Canine influenza? The doctor is in.

If I can’t remember if I took his collar off before I left the house, I worry every minute from the point of realization to the moment I walk in the door that he has gotten caught on something and suffocated.

If we get home and Gus isn’t waiting at the window, I get a deep pit in my stomach until he comes around the corner. Most of the time, it turns out he was just sleeping. The rest of the time, he was into trouble that he needn’t be in.

And EVERY day, without fail, I think about what our life would be like if something were to happen. How devastated we would be to lose our beloved friend, and how amazing it is to have such a dear friend in our lives.

And then I realize we’re truly blessed, no matter how many days/months/years we are given. We have known – and been loved – by Gus.

Tonight? We marveled at how he managed to get water all over his head. We were finishing our dinners and he had just finished his and he came running in …

He skidded to a spot in front of the table, and I started to laugh. Jaime looked at me expectantly, and I laughed as I pointed out Gus had a water line on his head that looked the Harry Potter lightening bolt.

Now, we’re big Harry Potter fans. Not big, dress up wait in line at midnight for a new book, but big see every movie in the theatre and read every book. So we repeat the line, “You’re a wizard, Harry,” often enough for no apparent reason. Tonight, it was perfectly justified.

Much like God, Gus doesn’t care who won Super Bowl 43. Puppy bowl, though, is a whole different story. Captivating television, that.

So today is a day not to be wasted, what with the sun shining and temps on the rise. Unfortunately, I worked an event until after 2am this morning. Meaning I wasn’t asleep until 3.30am. And the alarm went off at 8.30am. Needed to do a tempo workout, so no run for Gus. The tempo run was great, but then the tiredness hit. Add in brunch with friends, and it’s sleepy time for me.

Step in my savior, Jaime. He bundled Gus and himself off to the park, and told me to get some rest. One more reason I love him. So as they frolic in the park, I am relaxing on the couch, tucked under a blanket, cozy and warm.

I am a little sad to miss out … watching them play together always makes me smile … but there will be other days at the park. It’s good to take a little me time.

We’re happy to announce that Boz has been adopted by my folks, who live in New Mexico.

I was lucky enough to be visiting when we found Boz at an adoption event at a mall in Santa Fe. We fell in love with his sweet, quiet demeanor and soulful eyes — and frankly, we didn’t stand a chance.

This beauty was being fostered by a wonderful volunteer from Bridging The World, a no-kill animal sanctuary. Boz was found on a highway after being thrown from a car. Thank goodness for Bridging the World, because the world (and our family) would be a much sadder place without this beautiful hound/retriever mix.

I am so happy he’s come home to our family. He needs love – and we all have plenty to give. I look forward to him being a playmate to Gus on visits out West, and know that he will be a dear friend to my mom and dad.

Welcome home, Boz. You’re already loved more than we can put into words.