By Elwood, Shar-Pei, trailrunner, and reluctant show dog.
Race Day. Finally! The day my wrinkles were meant to slice through mountain air like finely tuned aerodynamics.
My human clipped us together with the bungee line, and gave her usual pep talk: “Steady, Elwood.” I nodded solemnly, the way athletes do before glory… and then immediately ignored her. When the universe offers speed, you take it.
But first, a little backstory.
Two weeks earlier, we’d driven two days to a dog show in Slovakia. I’d assumed we were travelling for a race, something thrilling, muddy, and fast. But no. We were there to stand still. In a circle. While strangers debated the curvature of my tail. I did not thrive. My expression said, “I’m only here because she brought snacks.”
After that ordeal, we escaped to the mountains of Reit im Winkl. Finally, altitude. Fresh air. Pine needles. The good life. My paws tingled with anticipation. I was back in training mode, clocking miles, eating wind, living my best wrinkled life.
Then came Race Day.
The start line buzzed. I was vibrating with purpose. My human adjusted her harness, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. And then… SHE appeared.
A snow-white sled dog. Elegant. Effortless. Probably smelled faintly of glacier and destiny. She trotted ahead, and that was it: Love at first sight.
The horn sounded. I launched. The bungee line stretched, my human yelped, and together we catapulted into history. Uphill.
Now, I’m a downhill specialist. Gravity and I are on excellent terms. But that day? I charged uphill like a Shar-Pei possessed. My human bounced behind me, somewhere between panic and admiration, gasping out what I can only assume were words of encouragement.
We flew. We slipped. We somehow didn’t die. At one point, I think she briefly achieved lift-off. But we kept running. Faster. Higher. Chasing the snow-white blur of my beloved.
And then, before I knew it, we were crossing the finish line. Twenty-five minutes faster than our previous best. My human collapsed in triumph. I posed for the crowd, every wrinkle glistening with victory.
The snow-white sled dog was nowhere to be seen,… gone, like all great loves, leaving only the memory of her pawprints on my heart.
So yes, in the ring I am a show dog, a portrait of composure, wrinkles arranged just so. But out there, attached to my human by one gloriously overstretched bungee line, I am something else entirely.
A trailblazer. A romantic. A Shar-Pei on a mission.
Elwood. Wrinkled. Determined. Occasionally aerodynamic. Always legendary.
