Izzy Gets Social By Robyn Todd

My idea of exercise is getting out of bed in the morning. My husband, on the other hand (he's a comedian who gets up at the crack of dawn), sprints from bed to a spinning class -- which I don't find funny at all! If it weren't for David, neither Izzy nor I would know about the importance of exercise. Or feel guilty that, in fact, it has never been our thing.

Izzy is our standard poodle: silver gray, taller by far than I am, the kind of dog who stops traffic. Izzy sleeps at the foot of our bed, sends us looks of guileless love at every turn, and generally is the light of our lives. We do everything together except travel on planes, because I won't put Izzy in a compartment with luggage (as he is not a suitcase). The one thing we don't do at all is exercise. Anymore. I had better explain.

All my friends who are dog owners (read obsessed dog lovers) insist that both dogs and owners need exercise, and they rave about the wonders of hiking with your dog. So at the urging of my adorable stepdaughter Rebecca, I thought I'd try taking Izzy for a nice little hike in Runyon Canyon, not far from our house in the hills above Los Angeles.

Here's the picture: I'm 5 foot 1 and 100 pounds, and Izzy is 85 pounds of poodle. He's pretty good at listening to me. But between the bees, which I find petrifying (I know this is irrational), and the fear of possible encounters with a rattlesnake (warning signs point this out every 10 feet), the idea of hiking with Izzy didn't have a lot of appeal. But knowing full well that Izzy and I needed exercise, I was determined that we, together, would forge ahead.

The sky was blue. The views went on for miles. I was starting to get it. Izzy was on his leash, of course, but interestingly enough there were no signs saying he had to be, or warnings about other dogs off leash. The next thing I knew, Izzy darted off and started chasing another dog and I was flying through the air like a Thanksgiving Day parade balloon. Clinging to the leash, I stayed aloft on the winds of Runyon Canyon until eventually both dogs got tired and I landed with a thud. Remembering the wise words of President Obama and Dorothy Fields, "I picked myself up, brushed myself off" and decided never to try that again.

I've gotta try something else. A doggy play date, maybe, or a dog park. For the uninitiated, a dog park is a place where dogs can run free and play with other dogs. What could be better? On the down side, I figure these places have germs -- and owners who don't know what the heck they're doing.

And here's what I learned the hard way: Dogs who are not neutered can give off a scent that makes other dogs crazy. Who knew? I hear a law passed recently that makes it illegal to have an intact dog (with balls) in California. Then there are the dog walkers who exercise dogs when their owners can't. But these dogs come to the park in packs and aren't always too welcoming to outsiders. And I don't even want to go into the insensitive owners who don't pick up their dog's poop in the park, on the street, or anywhere. You know who you are.

One time David and I took Izzy to the dog park. Izzy ran around happily with two or three other dogs. We stopped to chat with some friends and before we knew it, both of us were on the ground, knocked from behind like bowling pins. The dogs continued running on their way, completely oblivious. This is exercise? No, this is how we learned not to stand still in a dog park. One reason is obvious: you don't want to get knocked on your ass. The other reason is that if your dog is there with you, his nature is to protect his territory -- and that would be you, standing still.

Another day I was with Izzy at the park and I was moving – not stopping- and dogs were coming towards me from everywhere and following me like the pied piper. I couldn't figure out what was going on, and then I realized that I'd forgotten to take Izzy's treats out of my pocket before entering the park. I tried to escape as the dogs were sniffing and gnawing at my jacket as they followed me right up to the gate. I never made that mistake again.

I've got to get going now. Izzy has that Runyon Canyon look in his eyes... Oy.


Robyn Todd is the author of "How to Survive Your Boyfriend's Divorce." She and her husband, comedian David Steinberg, live in New York and California.