Running with Fifi

My new favorite thing to do is run with Fifi.

Fifi, my brother’s French bulldog, pug hybrid (he bristles if I refer to her as a “mix”) has a lot of energy.

When I visit the four pups, Fifi can’t help but tackle everyone so that they’re down for the count and she can therefore be the only one standing to receive any attention.

As you can imagine, this is not appreciated by the exasperated Georgie, Luca and Nini.

G, L&N have formed a kind of tacit alliance; resigned exasperation their commonality. Nini has bought into the alliance so completely, she isn’t even a chihuahua anymore. She’s a shih-tzu personality in a chihuahua body.

The three have agreed to a strategy when I come by with new toys for everyone. They each take their present off to a corner and protect it, keeping an eye on Fifi, with her propensity for blatant toy-swiping, the whole time.  

I see why they’re annoyed. I feel for them.

Still, I can’t help but have a soft spot for Fifi.

I decided the thing she needs most is a way to expend her energy. Then she’d be good.

So, I’ve begun to run with Fifi.

The first time I was concerned she wouldn’t be able to complete a whole five miles. She has a squished-in face which can make it difficult to breathe. My dad was hesitant, but I assured him I would watch for signs of potential distress and stop right away if she needed to.

He was also worried that Fifi might wonder where her sister was. Up until now, they hadn’t spent a moment apart.

I didn’t know what would happen, but I knew it was worth a try.

So, one morning I met my dad and the babies at the park and took Fifi’s leash.

She must’ve known what I had planned because the instant I had the leash, she took off running and didn’t look back.

Nini had a tantrum as we tore up the dirt path. I looked back to assure Nini it was OK, we'd be back, but Fifi ran straight ahead and said, Nini who?

I was the one racing to keep up.

At first I thought it was funny. She’ll slow down soon, I thought. I’ll just try to keep up until she gets a little tired and settles at a more reasonable pace.

Any minute now.

Any minute now?

When my chest began to heave and burn and Fifi showed no signs of even the slightest fatigue at about a third of the way in, I thought it best to put the brakes on her myself.

She had no way of knowing we were doing a whole five miles. Best to help her conserve her energy.

When I tugged on the leash, she shot a look back at me.

Really? She said.

Fifi loves every second she’s running. She loves that other people are running too. She thinks we all decided to up and run together. Which, in a way, we did.

When she spots someone in front of us, she pulls and pulls for me to hurry up until we’ve passed them.

I didn’t realize how obvious my struggle to keep up was until people generously offered me their perspective.

“You’ll never catch up to her,” I’ve heard.

“It’s not fair. She’s pulling you,” is one of my favorites, as well as the kinder version, “I need her to pull me.”

People remember her too.

One time we ran opposite a race and passed a group of teenage boys. The next time we ran, one of them said, “it’s the dog from the race!”

Even though we were going the wrong way, when we passed the starting point I raised my arms and said, “Fifi’s the winner!”

The small group of people standing there cheered for Fifi and someone said, “she is the winner!”

She still annoys G, L&N.

But Fifi has her fans.