I was so proud of you, buddy!
You tackled the hill at Camel’s Back Park like a champ. Though the wind was blowing (with all the intensity of a stiff breeze), and the storm clouds loomed (three thousand miles away in Boston), you waddled your way to the top. Determinedly, you marched on, only pausing every five feet to sniff the weeds where another dog once peed. I can only presume you were so deprived of oxygen from the altitude change (100 feet, at least), or so awed by the view of downtown Boise, that you didn’t notice the size of dog bounding up the slope to sniff your hiney. The way she snarled and growled, it is only natural you responded by tucking your tail nub as far between your legs as it would go and trying to burrow under the chicken wire fence. But friend, at the end of the day there is no way to hide the fact that you just had your ass handed to you by a three-pound chihuahua named Lucy.
I am shamed.