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I was overweight and lethargic. I would finish work and just flop onto the sofa. Despite my wife encouraging me to join her in the gym I would always come up with an excuse not to. “Lets go for a walk, then,” she’d say. Again, I would come up with excuses, the main one being that it was boring. So, as the months past and I grew lazier and I, well, just grew. That all changed though after Bobby arrived.
My wife had told me, so she said, but I still have no recollection of the actual conversation or when it occurred, that she had a friend who was moving apartments and her new landlord didn’t allow pets. I probably wasn’t listening, and most definitely not paying attention, because there was no way I would have agreed, consciously, in adopting my wife’s friend’s dog. I must have, though, because two weeks later I came home to find a Yorkshire Terrier lying on MY sofa and chewing one of MY sneakers.
“Meet Bobby” my wife said.
“Bobby, the dog? Remember?’
I didn’t. But after thirty minutes, when every one of my arguments as to why we should not have a dog was shot down Bobby was part of the family. But I had a few conditions. I would not clean up any accidents that would be my wife’s job. I would not take him for a walk that was her job too. In no circumstances rely on me to do anything. Well, that lasted a week.
A week after his arrival and everything was going great. My wife kept her side of the bargain. She walked Bobby three times a day; he never had an accident, and, to be perfectly honest, I was beginning to warm to him. It was a Wednesday when my wife called me to tell me she would be late home from work and could I just take Bobby for a walk around the block. Begrudgingly I grabbed his leash and took him around the block, a block I never usually saw unless from inside my car. It wasn’t so bad.
The next day she called again. Same thing. In fact every day that week she worked late and every day I took Bobby for an early evening walk. It became routine. So much so that I began to enjoy walking my new friend. I insisted that I would take him for his morning walk, which now involved not just a walk around the block, but five minutes in the park. A month later and I had assumed all responsibilities when it came to walking Bobby. My wife would join me. I met neighbors I hadn’t known existed. I became a part of the dog crowd. But it wasn’t until my mother visited did I realize that I had lost weight. Lots of it.
You see, my mom lives out of town, so she hadn’t seen me for a month. When she did, the first thing she commented on was my weight. Apparently, I looked good. My wife agreed. So, that’s why my trousers were looser. Not only had I lost weight, I felt healthier. My snoring had stopped. I was eating less. I felt less lethargic.
Three years on and while though still on the large side I am twenty pounds lighter than I was before Bobby came into our lives. I have more friends, and I know most of our neighbors. Maybe I would have snapped out of my rut eventually, maybe I would have lost weight without Bobby, but one thing for sure, I now look forward to Bobby’s walks just as much as he does.
If you enjoyed reading, How my wife’s dog helped me lose weight, you may enjoy reading these other works by the author.
About author Duncan Whitehead
Award Winning Writer, Duncan Whitehead, was born in England and is the author of the best-selling and award-winning GORDONSTON LADIES DOG WALKING CLUB Trilogy. The series, inspired by the quirky characters and eeriness in the real life Savannah neighborhood in which he once lived is a humorous mystery, which boasts an assortment of characters and plot twists.
He has also written over 2,000 spoof and comedy news articles, under various aliases, for a variety of websites both in the US and the UK.
He has written further novels; a comedy set in Manhattan, THE RELUCTANT JESUS, published in April 2014 and republished in July 2015 & three short stories.
Duncan is well known for his charity work, kindness to animals, children and old people; and, of course, his short-lived bullfighting career and his hideous hunchback.
In February 2045, he invented time travel and now spends much of his time in either the future (where he has won the lottery an astonishing 117 times) and the present day.
More great books by Duncan Whitehead
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