I remember the 2026 Furry Scurry like it was yesterday. Because it was last month. The first weekend in May. Perfect weather — sunny but not hot, which is rare for Portland. Thousands of dogs and their owners gathered at Washington Park for the annual 5K walk/run.
Murphy and I walked the whole thing. All 3.1 miles. He was exhausted. I was exhausted. We went home and he slept for 12 hours. I slept for 9. We both woke up feeling like champions.
The next morning, I put him on the scale. He had lost… zero pounds. Not even a tenth of a pound. After walking 5K. After sleeping half the day. After what felt like the most exercise either of us had done in months.
I stared at the scale. I checked it twice. I moved it to a different spot on the floor. Still zero. I felt betrayed. By physics. By biology. By my own stupid expectations.
Here's what I learned that day. Exercise alone does not make dogs lose weight. It just doesn't. A 5K walk burns maybe 100-150 calories for a 70-pound dog. That's one dental chew. That's three training treats. That's nothing if you're still overfeeding by 200 calories per day.
I had a client — let's call her Rachel — who walked her Labrador, Duke, for an hour every single day. Rain or shine. She was dedicated. She was committed. She was confused as hell because Duke weighed 95 pounds and should have been 75. "We walk an hour a day," she said, almost angry. "How is he still fat?"
We did a diet history. Duke ate: 2 cups of kibble (600 calories), a large dental chew (150 calories), a spoonful of peanut butter in his Kong (100 calories), table scraps (200 calories), and "just a few" treats on the walk (100 calories). Total: 1,150 calories. For a dog that needed 900. Every single day. The hour-long walk burned maybe 200 calories. Net surplus: 50 calories per day. That's a pound gained every 70 days. That's 5 pounds per year. That's how Duke got to 95 pounds.
Rachel stared at me. "So the walks don't matter?" she asked. "They matter," I said. "They matter for his joints, his heart, his mental health, his behavior. But they don't matter for weight loss if you're still overfeeding."
She looked like I had told her Santa wasn't real. But she listened. We cut Duke's food by 20 percent. We swapped the peanut butter Kong for a frozen green bean Kong. We measured the walk treats. Six months later, Duke was down to 82 pounds. The walks were the same. The food was different.
So if you did the Furry Scurry last month and your dog didn't lose weight, don't feel bad. The walk was good for them. It was good for you. But weight loss happens in the kitchen, not on the trail. The trail just makes the kitchen part easier.
—Megan (currently on my third cup of coffee because writing this made me tired)
Let me tell you about the most depressing weigh-in I've ever done. It was two years ago. I had been walking Murphy for 45 minutes every day for three months. Rain or shine. I was dedicated. I was committed. I was stupid.
I put him on the scale expecting to see a dramatic change. Maybe 5 pounds. Maybe 8. At least 3. The scale showed: 71.2 pounds. Three months earlier: 71.4 pounds. He had lost 0.2 pounds. In three months. Of daily 45-minute walks. I did the math. I had spent 67.5 hours walking for 0.2 pounds. That's 337.5 hours per pound. That's a part-time job. For one pound.
I called my mentor, a veterinarian who had been doing nutrition for 30 years. "I'm doing everything right," I said. "Why isn't he losing weight?" She asked me one question: "What are you feeding him?" I told her. Two cups of kibble, measured with a scoop. A dental chew. Some treats. Table scraps. She laughed. Not a mean laugh. A "I've been there" laugh. "You're feeding him like he's training for a marathon," she said. "And he's walking like he's strolling through a park."
She was right. I was feeding Murphy based on his "activity level" — which I had rated as "moderate" because we walked 45 minutes a day. But a 45-minute walk for a golden retriever is not moderate activity. It's barely activity. It's a warm-up. And I was feeding him like he was a working dog.
We cut his food by 20 percent. Kept the walks the same. He lost 8 pounds in six months. The walks didn't change. The food changed. And that made all the difference.
So if you did the Furry Scurry and your dog didn't lose weight, I feel you. I've been there. The walk was good. The effort was good. The intention was good. But weight loss happens in the kitchen. The trail just makes the kitchen part easier. Measure the food. Count the calories. And then walk. In that order.
—Megan (currently on my third cup of coffee because writing this made me tired)
Let me tell you about the most depressing weigh-in I've ever done. It was two years ago. I had been walking Murphy for 45 minutes every day for three months. Rain or shine. I was dedicated. I was committed. I was stupid.
I put him on the scale expecting to see a dramatic change. Maybe 5 pounds. Maybe 8. At least 3. The scale showed: 71.2 pounds. Three months earlier: 71.4 pounds. He had lost 0.2 pounds. In three months. Of daily 45-minute walks. I did the math. I had spent 67.5 hours walking for 0.2 pounds. That's 337.5 hours per pound. That's a part-time job. For one pound.
I called my mentor, a veterinarian who had been doing nutrition for 30 years. "I'm doing everything right," I said. "Why isn't he losing weight?" She asked me one question: "What are you feeding him?" I told her. Two cups of kibble, measured with a scoop. A dental chew. Some treats. Table scraps. She laughed. Not a mean laugh. A "I've been there" laugh. "You're feeding him like he's training for a marathon," she said. "And he's walking like he's strolling through a park."
She was right. I was feeding Murphy based on his "activity level" — which I had rated as "moderate" because we walked 45 minutes a day. But a 45-minute walk for a golden retriever is not moderate activity. It's barely activity. It's a warm-up. And I was feeding him like he was a working dog.
We cut his food by 20 percent. Kept the walks the same. He lost 8 pounds in six months. The walks didn't change. The food changed. And that made all the difference.
So if you did the Furry Scurry and your dog didn't lose weight, I feel you. I've been there. The walk was good. The effort was good. The intention was good. But weight loss happens in the kitchen. The trail just makes the kitchen part easier. Measure the food. Count the calories. And then walk. In that order.
—Megan (currently on my third cup of coffee because writing this made me tired)
