Ezra's joke

It's a three-story brownstone so taking Ezra for a walk isn't a simple or fast proposition.

I'm groggy in the morning, and follow him down the flights of stairs, holding his leash to attach by the front door. Ezra is three and a half and a black lab-pit bull mix which makes him sleek, strong and fast when he wants to be.

His tail wags as he goes down the stairs and his butt moves back and forth with every step. Every few steps, he pauses to make sure I'm there with the leash in hand and bag for outside, but he's pretty much in front and leads us.

We reach the foyer door, and as I lean forward to grab the doorknob, he becomes a blur as he flies back up the stairs. I can't catch him, of course, and he won't come if called. I have to follow him back up the three flights and trap him at the front door to our apartment where I can attach his leash and walk him back down.

I fall for it every few days. He thinks it's hysterical.