Running with dogs

It's been a long week.

What's that? It's only Monday, you say? Not for me. Today is Glorpday, or whatever they'd call the eighth day of the week, if we ever decide we need one (God forbid). I've had to work for eight straight days! It's been a long week. Looking forward to getting a weekend.

I was at my parents house on Saturday (the 6th day of my week) and they have a little white dog. This little white dog, Tommy (Tommy Girl), she's a little cutie. I love her to death. But she's got this issue, it's either a skin allergy or some kind of thyroid problem or something, where she's just itching herself like crazy. They did the flea dip, and have taken her to the vet like 6 times - different diagnosis each time. Anyhow, this isn't the point of the story.

So Tommy's been itching herself a lot. And when dogs itch, they do whatever they can to satisfy said itch. Cats do it too - if they must, they lick themselves - not just on the whatsits and stuff, but their paws and stuff too. And on a longer-haired dog, the saliva-smell starts getting...not good. Mom and I, being the only two in the house at the time, decided it was stinky enough. So mom decided to give Tommy a bath. "When I'm done, will you take eher outside for me?" Mom asked. See, when Tommy's done with a bath, she gets excited and needs to pee (I'm the same way....but that's another story entirely). "Sure," I said.

So I sat down, no, laid down, on the couch and started watching the USC-Notre Dame game. I had been working since 7 that morning, so I was a little tired. I nodded off. I didn't want to, because the game was one of those ones that's an instant classic. It really was - I did catch the last bit, and let me tell you, one of the best college games I've ever seen. So there I was, in that glorious state of floaty self-awareness between sleep and waking, when mom's voice calls. "quint," she says (not really, because that's not my name), "She's ready to go out!"

"Hmmph? Oh, OK."

I get up, grab the little doggy and put the leash on her. "Ready to go out, Tom?" I sure am, she barks. I open the door and step out onto the deck. Down one step, but not down two. Suddenly, unexpectedly, BLINDINGLY, my ankle rolls out from under me. Snap, crack snap...The dog pulls me, I gotta pee! I pull myself up, not seeing anything, and hop with the dog to the spot where she pees. I can't breathe; I can feel the sick rising in my throat.

This is the part where I even impress myself: I grabbed my cell phone out of my pocket. Call mom in the house. "Help me," I pant. I can't walk, and my foot hurts. "I'll be right out," she answers.

I hobble back into the house, the sick feeling going away, but the pain still shooting up my leg.

Two days later, I can move my foot, but not much. It's kinda swollen. And it hurts to drive.

Coming Soon to 20 Degrees Off Center: A post by Lumpy? Maybe, if we're lucky. But that's not what I'm talking about...No, coming soon is "quint's greatest hits" Music, books, movies and more - things everyone should hear, see or do before they leave this incredibly rich planet we live on. Number 1 on that list: Not falling down while taking a dog for a pee.