When the wiener dog tried to be the hare

The fable says “slow and steady wins the race.” That may be true for tortoises, but no one ever tested the theory on an 11-pound wiener dog with stubby legs and an inflated sense of athletic ability. 

This Labor Day weekend, Winnie — my miniature dachshund — and I found out the hard way.

We’d just wrapped our August challenge of running at least a mile a day and walking an average of closer to five. That means we walked and ran more than 150 miles — basically a cross-country tour if you happen to be 8 inches tall. By the end of the month, I decided we were ready for a little extra push: running two miles a day, back-to-back on top of our long walks.

The first day was glorious. Smooth breathing, steady pace, confidence high. The second day? Not so much. Sore legs, heavy breaths, and questionable decision-making as we shuffled down the dirt roads outside Harrington. 

That’s when Winnie saw her first rabbit ever.

To her, this was destiny. The hare. The rival she was born to beat. She launched forward like a cannonball, dragging me with her. Except, unlike in the fable, the hare didn’t dawdle. It bolted. 

And Winnie, at the end of her leash, met the cruel limits of physics. She was yanked back mid-chase — just as I was kissing the dirt in a neighbor’s driveway.

For the record, I’m grateful they don’t have a Ring camera. No one needs to see me get clotheslined by a dog smaller than most barn cats. 

Winnie strutted off like she’d conquered the world, while I hobbled home with a scraped knee, a bruised ego, and a new respect for leash laws.

To redeem the weekend, we swapped running shoes for a kayak. I outfitted Winnie with her life jacket, a sun deck on the back of the boat, and the dignity she’d lost in her hare-hunting misfire. She loved it — right up until I started reeling in tiny fish. 

Nothing like a pile of Scooby Snack-sized bass to make a dog judge your skills. Still, we managed to disembark gracefully this time, no Titanic re-enactments required.

So here’s the moral of our updated fable: the tortoise doesn’t always win, especially if she’s a dachshund who thinks she’s faster than a rabbit. 

Sometimes the hare runs off, the tortoise eats dirt, and the lesson is simply this: slow and steady may not win the race, but at least it keeps you from face-planting on Main Street.