I had the dog at the dog park this morning. There were two Australian shepherds there, about six months old, and he ran and ran with them. He was having a great time. Then he swerved to run past me, except he didn't run past, he clotheslined me and I slammed to the ground.
Let me tell you, falling when you're 66 is very different from falling when you're 26.
(I'm fine, except my ankle hurts a little.)
All three dogs came running back to make sure I was okay, sticking their noses in my ears and face. I said I was okay and they ran off again.
 |
| The culprit, all worn out |
3 comments:
aww 🥰
Falling as a 64-year-old (admittedly, I trip or step on something unstable rather than getting knocked over) doesn't feel that much worse than earlier. I do kind of get the wind knocked out of me. But when I get up with my skinned knees and elbows instead of a broken hip, I tell myself I'm a kid again! Oh yeah, we've still got it!
I admit I was pleased to find I could get knocked down and not break!
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