Let sleeping dogs...

So I'm out on my usual walk, take my usual roll or two in the long grass—it feels really good on my back—and snatch the opportunity for a short nap.

Mom, who's been hobbling ever since the Boston Marathon, is exhausted at this point in the 3-mile loop. She plops down next to me, so of course I pop right up, if only to give her a little more exercise.

We trundle off toward home, when a neighbor drives by.

"Is your dog OK?" she asks Mom.

Huh?

"He was lying down, and I wondered if he was sick or something," she said. "I thought he might need a ride home."

If anyone needed a ride home, it was Mom, I would have said, but I was already off, running like the wind. Too bad there's not a Boston Marathon for dogs.