Teddy and Archie are two golden retrievers with more energy than a dozen espresso shots. If you’ve ever seen a blur of fur darting across your backyard, chances are you’ve caught a glimpse of their daily “zoomies.” They’re the kind of dogs that could compete in the canine Olympics—if there were events for couch leaping, sock stealing, or synchronized door scratching.
To say they live life in the fast lane would be an understatement.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love those two like they’re furry little children. They’re sweet, smart (ish), endlessly loyal, and absolutely hilarious. But they also have one major flaw: no concept of limits.
And recently? Their need for speed almost got them grounded for life.
The Backyard Track
It started on a sunny Saturday. The kind of day that practically begs for a barbecue and a long game of fetch. My partner and I were setting up chairs outside when we made the mistake of letting Teddy and Archie out at the same time.
Bad move.
Within seconds, it was like someone had fired a starter pistol. The boys took off at warp speed, tearing around the yard in wide circles, barking like they were being chased by a ghost squirrel.
Our backyard turned into their personal NASCAR track. You could see the grass flattening beneath their paws. Teddy, the older of the two, is more of a strategic speedster—cutting corners, leaning into turns. Archie, meanwhile, is the wild card. All legs, all chaos. His version of speed includes jumping over things rather than running around them.
We watched in amazement for a good five minutes. Then came the mistake.
Dad (my partner, the more responsible adult in our relationship) decided to bring out the electric scooter—the one he’d recently bought to zip around the neighborhood. He thought he’d “show the boys how it’s really done.”
Bad idea #2.
The Scooter Showdown
The moment the scooter buzzed to life, Teddy and Archie froze mid-sprint. Their ears perked up. Their tails stiffened. Their eyes sparkled with a mixture of curiosity and intense competitive drive.
And then they were off again.
Only this time, they weren’t racing each other. They were racing Dad.
He barely made it to the end of the driveway before the dogs caught up, barking like mad and trying to bite the wheels in pure “this is new, what is it, must destroy!” excitement.
At first, it was funny. The dogs were running beside the scooter, tongues hanging out, eyes gleaming.
Then Teddy tried to leap on the scooter. Like, actually jump onto the platform. Archie, not to be outdone, launched himself at the handlebars. It all happened in slow motion.
Dad swerved, trying to dodge their enthusiasm. But the boys were faster than him—and far less coordinated.
Cue the crash.
The Aftermath
Dad tumbled off the scooter, landing in the grass with a dramatic groan that sounded like it came from a soap opera actor. The scooter skidded across the yard, narrowly missing a lawn gnome and our neighbor’s prized hydrangeas.
Teddy and Archie, undeterred by the chaos, leapt onto Dad like, “That was fun, right?! Let’s go again!”
Dad did not think it was fun.
“I am putting a SPEED LIMIT in this yard!” he declared dramatically, brushing grass out of his hair. “NO SCOOTERS. NO ZOOMIES. NO—WHATEVER THIS WAS.”
Meanwhile, I was trying not to laugh (and failing). But I was also mentally calculating: What if they’d broken a leg? What if Dad had landed on one of them? What if something actually went wrong?
And that’s when it hit me.
Thank goodness I got pet insurance through Progressive.
The Smartest Decision I Ever Made
When we first got Teddy, I didn’t think much about pet insurance. He was healthy, happy, and rarely got into trouble. Then we added Archie to the mix—and suddenly, life felt like we were living inside a dog version of “Fast & Furious.”
After one particularly chaotic incident involving a birthday cake, a candle, and a singed tail (don’t ask), I signed them both up for coverage.
Progressive’s pet insurance plan gave me peace of mind. Vet bills can be brutal, and with dogs like mine—who think safety cones are chew toys and sliding glass doors are optional—it felt like a smart backup.
Sure, I hope I never have to use it for anything serious. But just knowing it’s there? That’s priceless.
Like the time Teddy swallowed half a tennis ball and we spent an anxious evening at the emergency vet. Or when Archie got stung by a bee and puffed up like a golden marshmallow. Both covered.
They may have a need for speed, but at least I’ve got a safety net.
The New Rules
After the Great Scooter Debacle, Dad instituted a few new rules:
- No more racing vehicles in the yard.
- All high-speed zoomie sessions must be supervised.
- Scooters are now stored where paws can’t reach them.
- And, perhaps most importantly: dogs are not allowed to drive. (Archie was heartbroken.)
Teddy and Archie have adapted. Mostly. We still catch them sprinting around like furry meteors. But they’ve started respecting boundaries. Kind of. And Dad’s scooter now has its own helmet. Just in case.
But every once in a while, Teddy will glance at that scooter with a gleam in his eye. Like he’s just waiting for the right moment to try again.
Archie, of course, is always ready.
And me? I just keep laughing—and thanking my past self for getting pet insurance through Progressive.
Because with these two golden goofballs, you never know what the next day might bring.
One thing’s for sure, though: it’ll be fast, furry, and probably a little ridiculous.
