That THING in the bedroom growls!

As part of our newfound health addiction, Lindsey and I are spending some time exercising every evening.

Tonight, he took Gumbo to his novice obedience class. I got home a little later, un-crated Roux, took her outside and decided she wasn't a good candidate for walking. But I was.

So there is this big metal THING in our bedroom, standing off to the side with a wonderful view of the television set. It's been there more than a year. It has been used four times, maybe five or six if I include the times daughter Anne has used it. That does not include the many times the thing's bars have been used as a clothes hanger.

It's a treadmill.

The treadmill came from my very healthy coworker, Mike Radoff, who moved to Monroe from Wisconsin. He didn't have a treadmill for a time, so he went out and bought one. When his family made the move, they wound up with one more treadmill than they needed. So I asked to buy it, and Mike delivered it to me as a gift.

I used it three times, and then Gumbo as a pup decided to chew off the plug. It took me about six months to ask Lindsey to replace the plug and another couple of months for him to remember to do it.

It sat unused until tonight. I opened a window to let in the cool fall air, plunked myself on the treadmill and got to walkin'.

Roux jumped up on it with me, and when I started walking, her foal-like legs splayed like a deer on ice.

She slid off the back, into the wall and ran with tail tucked out of the room.

I just kept walking.

A few minutes later, she reappeared, ran up to the treadmill, nipped at the armpost and fled out of sight.

She ran back into the room and started barking at the tread, which I then realized was making a noise resembling a growl. (No, not groaning under the weight... the growl of movement.)

She nipped at my ankles, as if to say, "Save yourself! Get off! Get off before this thing bites you!"

Then she disappeared.

I continued to walk until I felt like I'd had a good workout. I went looking for Roux.

She was hiding in the kitchen, under the table. She came out, Miss Wigglebutt, as though to say, "Thank goodness you survived the growling THING."