Home Living in the Netherlands Pets Jogging with your dog in the Netherlands
Last update on November 15, 2018
Written by Canis Bonus

Imagine jogging with your dog in the Netherlands? Before you try it, read dog specialist Laure-Anne Viselé’s tips for running with your canine companion.

As a dog writer, I have a bit of a professional ‘third eye’: I see dog diseases everywhere. So I indulged in my Munchausen’s by proxy again (seeing diseases in someone else). This time, it was for lumps on my dog’s rump. Completely unimpressed, the vet squarely told me, à la Dutch: “Your dog’s too fat”.

After getting over the frankly crushing humiliation, I figured I’d take the dog jogging with me as I go every couple of days anyway.

True to form, I had him tested for heart problems (predictably enough: negative). Looking good on paper. Didn’t quite work out, though…

I start putting together a jogging survival kit (thirteen items on a good day):

For the dog:

Scooper bags

Small treats (he IS on a diet)

Reflecting dog bandana: I want cars to see him

Flashing bike light on his collar: I want to see him myself

Leash

For me (it’s winter in my Dutch village):

Woolly hat;

Two pairs of jogging trousers;

Two sweaters;

A fleece jacket;

High-visibility vest;

My snazzy jogging shoes;

I-pod on a wrist wrap; and

i-pod headphones (yes, bright green).

 

The whole ordeal takes about twenty minutes, but, somehow, I am still roaring to go. The unsuspecting dog too: he still thinks he’s going for a ‘regular’ walk.

And then it happens: five quick steps to jogging abyss).

I start off in a trot to the sound of, say, Peggy Lee. Already the dog is trailing behind. After a few seconds, I have to kind of hop in one place until he’s caught up every five meters.

Five minutes later, I get sick of the whole thing and move on to Abba (there, I said it), clipping the leash on. He grudgingly follows my pace, soon dragging behind like a trawler.

I quickly take pity on him (I always fall for his theatrics) and unclip him. I then start jogging (to Guns ‘n Roses, no less) in a zigzag, so that he has less distance to cover (yes, it is humiliating).

After ten minutes of this regime, utterly disgusted, I bring him back home to my very amused husband, so I can start my real jog.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t constantly have to take my earphones off to politely answer the well-meaning but Oh-so-Dutch question: “Hij heeft geen zin, he?” (“He doesn’t feel like it, does he?”) .

Jogging to keep fit? Definitely. Having a dog to keep fit? Mmmmmm. All I know at this stage is … that dog will be the death of me.