The dogs are all anxious with the wind blowing in gusts and rippling their fur. It’s out they go every 30 minutes so that I don’t have to deal with bowel emergencies in the middle of a tornadic cell. It is a kindness one of them does not deserve…
As we exited the door for the daily stroll through the clover, their off-leash romp, the moron neighbors with a dog salvation condition had let their horde out free-range to get in their vehicle. This bothered Ranger no end…I held them back, waiting, then started out when it appeared they all clear. I was confident, admiring the bluebonnets surrounding the walkway, when Ranger juked left, through the blooms, with all his 115 lb desire.
Sadly, Kota chose to remain where she ought – on my right and moving her 125 lbs with a purpose. Unfortunately, the fine potted herbs were just in the wrong place today. Ranger got traction and I stepped in one pot then fell over the very large ornamental one. In proper form, I retained my grasp of the leashes so my left arm was up and out. This was probably a good thing since I landed on my left side so damned hard that I would have surely broken it.
The wind knocked out of me, I looked up into the pink eyes of the bluebonnets. Like a reboot, my system was taking stock. Yep, every organ shifted and jolted hard. Ribs feel bad but…I can breathe – so not that bad, eh? Kota had kindly sat down, not knowing what else to do in the moment. Once I regained my wind, it was time to curse like a sailor, letting the neighbors know in no uncertain terms my opinion of their goddamned mutts while castigating the guilty one of mine for paying them any attention.
I am generally pretty sturdy and can take a hit but it took a seriously long time to get on my feet. Curses and feeling ribs and grinding flowers beneath me as I struggled to stand. I saw my bodyprint in the smashed little shrubs, then gathered up the dogs to continue on. Not off-leash, mind you. No, that little SOB is back to Day 1 with me. He will learn ONCE MORE to heel, to not pull the leash, to not even THINK about smelling a goddamned turd without my say so.
It hurts all over, seriously. My back is starting to ache, my shoulder and even my throat which, I assume, was from the massive exhalation carving its way out in a moment. I was grimacing at the thought of having to call my doc back after seeing her just this morning. But wouldn’t you know it? I didn’t even land badly on the wrist that is currently Not Quite Right and, thus, xrayed.
So, I guess I ought to be thankful for what didn’t happen. But right now it just damned well hurts and there’s a front bearing down that will blow through the night. But it looks like Trooper will get home in time to not have to tote his rifle on rounds through the nasty weather. A blessing, that. He hates being the “rubber coated asshole” in the yellow rain gear.
And now…once more into the breach and then the hatches shall be battened. And the Advil applied.
I’m too old for this shit.