Okay, I'm gasping for air and nursing a twisted ankle as I type this, so bear with me.
Let Max out to do his morning business and he promptly forgets peeing when he manages to flush a rabbit. The rabbit, running for his life, outran Max, who was caught with his puppy pants down, and escaped under the fence. Max the Magnificent was not to be so easily deterred. He ran up and down the fence, trying to fit through any hole or gap he could find. Twenty minutes of fruitless, frustrating exercise and still no potty business.
Okay, Mr. Maximum Energy, time to see what's beyond the fence. I got his blue whales matching leash, hooked him up and hit the walking trail. This is the same 2.5 mile trek Charlie and I would take, down country roads out of the city limits. I figure we'd only do half since his legs are 1/3 the length of Charlie's. I underestimated him badly.
This little 20-pound wunderhound dragged my 200+-pound ass the entire 2.5 miles, shaving 10 minutes off my best time WHILE stopping to inspect Charlie's favorite rabbit holes and pee on every tree (shut up Terry in FL) and post that Snoopy ever peed on. So much pee! What keeps him from dehydrating?!
By the time we turned to head back, I was gasping, cramping, whimpering, and expecting him to get tired and slow down any. minute. now. PLEASE. Last half mile, I was praying with everything in my soul someone would drive by and offer us a ride home. No such luck. Max dragged me the rest of the way, up the steps (I crawled) and into the laundry room where I collapsed. My faithful pooch climbed over my prone carcass to get to his food and water, sated his thirst, climbed back over me and headed to his spot on the couch. So much for the legacy of Lassie going for help.
If we do this every day, I'll be swimsuit ready by May.