I betcha some pups and humans are wondering how Big Rascal stays in such tip-top shape. I admit, I like to strut it every so often (I think my friend, Tiffany, is rubbin’ off on me a bit). But keepin’ trim does take some effort—especially with how much I love food.
I go to a local 24-Hour Fitness, a few block’s trottin’ from where my human family lives. André is my main pup on the inside. He’s the gym manager’s dog, and you ain’t never seen a pooch more deserving of being on the cover of Muscle Pup magazine. He even bahks like Schwarzenegger.
After he slips me into the gym through a back door, I grab a quick drink from the pool and then hop on a treadmill and get myself huffing along for a mile or two. That’s when people tend to notice I ain’t exactly human—plus the No Dogs Allowed sign, to which Andre is the only exception.
So when I see staff heading my way, I scramble off and let them follow me around the place, picking up the pace until it’s a regular yakety-sax chase scene. Gyms are the best obstacle courses a dog could ask for. Ramps. Bars. Mazes of weight racks to leap over and duck under. And all the gym workers acting like my own personal trainers as they run me ‘round and ‘round, hollerin’ for me to stop.
Finally, once I’ve got my cardio in, it’s back to the pool for a refreshing splashdown. I dive in and doggy-paddle a couple laps while everyone watches from the sidelines.
Once I’m cooled off, it’s time to go. Humans are all careful about not slippin’ and slidin’ on the wet tiles, so I whip past ‘em without any trouble. André left the back door open, and I’m out, lickety-split, before anyone can stop me.
And that, pups, is Big Rascal’s workout routine. Of course, I’ll keep a wide berth from the gym until next week, when I duck inside for another fitness merry-go-round. How do you stay a lean, mean, growling machine?
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