This past Sunday, G and I headed down to Midtown West to pick up a 35 lb. bag of dog food specially ordered from her vet. It was a beautiful day, so I was looking forward to the 4 mile walk. G and I took the stroller (yes, strolling was involved) and made it there and back in just over 2 hours. G was feeling extra spunky (must have been the sunscreen I applied to her head before we left - she was not a fan!) and walked about 90% of the way there and back, finally giving in to exhaustion about 10 blocks from home.
G spent much of the remainder of the day doing spread eagles on the cool hardwood floors and napping. When it was finally time to call it a day, I went into my room and found my pooped pittie sprawled out in what looked like an exercise-induced coma, complete with tongue peaking out of her mouth: