Sticks

It's confession time.

I have a habit that I know my readers should not do at home.

I am fully aware of the dangers involved in what I do but engage in the activity despite the risks.

As I tell you what it is, I hope you will still accept me unconditionally as your friend.

I...run...with...sticks.

And, not just any sticks...sharp ones.

It is one of my greatest passions.

Nothing is more thrilling than when my people fling open the back door allowing me to experience the pure freedom of grass running. I will circle the entire perimeter with Olympic sprinter intensity.

Nothing stops me.

"Go, Mac, Go!" rings in my flapping ears as I am cheered on enthusiastically.

When I am running, nothings stops me...nothing...except...a stick.

A canopy of oak branches covers the entire backyard; it's Sticks "R" Us every day of the year. There is always a nice pointy one free for the grabbing. I have no preference, small and sharp or large and chunky, all are fun. I have also been known to run with entire branches!

Sometimes people will be up for a game of Stick Throwing.
Sometimes I will lay quietly in the cool grass chewing diligently.
Other times, I merely run for fun, stick in mouth.

That's my confession.

I have revealed the real me.