Ray the Lazy Dog

Goin' for a Walk
Just shadows of our former selves

Yesterday, Ray and I went for our usual walk around the lake. It was only 9:00 but already unbelievably hot and humid. I brought a collapsible bowl (Outward Hound brand. Isn't that a clever name?) and my water bottle. (I had knit a stylish bottle snuggie and strap for it using twine.)
Ray was lagging, or what I like to refer to as at a perfect heel. I stopped a few times to give him water to make sure he was well hydrated. We passed a few people but no one stopped to pet Ray. I think he was feeling ignored. By the time we passed the house where the little girls had been getting ready for their daytrip, he stopped dead. 
I puulllllled his leash steadily and said "Come, Ray. Come on. Come. COME. Come on. Come. Come on, we're almost home." 
Ray came, but when we got to the corner of the busy little road that bisects our subdivision, Ray stopped and flopped. I tried the same thing that I had done at the little girls house.  
I puulllllled his leash steadily and said "Come, Ray. Come on. Come. COME. Come on. Come. Come on, we're almost home." 
Ray didn't move. I tried pulling his leash from behind, like the trainer had told me to do. Ray, never leaving the perfect flop, scuttled around to face the leash, and lay panting. I looked at him nonplussed. He's too heavy to carry. Maybe he wasn't feeling well. Maybe it was the heat. I didn't want to push him too hard and give him a heart attack or anything. So I sat down on the pavement  (ok, I was a bit tired too) and waited for five minutes or so, then got up and tried again. 
Puulllllled the leash and said "Come on Ray, only two more blocks. Come. Come on. COME." 
Ray got to his feet, walked nine steps and flopped again. 

I was feeling a bit anxious. I sat back down, hoping that Ray was ok. Many cars passed. Then a car passed and I could see the driver peering out the window at us. I saw the car turn around and come back. 
The driver yelled out the window, "We're dog lovers, is your dog ok?" 
At the sound of his voice, Ray leapt to his feet, facing the driver, tail wagging. 
I stood up, "I guess he is," I said, "He just flopped over and wouldn't move."
"Watch Cesar Millan [the dog whisperer]," he yelled, "He'll straighten you out."

I thanked him and he drove on. I looked at Ray who was staring down the road in the direction that the man had driven, the big faker's tail was still wagging. He just wanted attention.