LUCKY DOG - POOR ME
When most people see an animal in danger, they will usually help. I’m no exception. I was in a parking lot on a boiling hot day. I noticed a large dog, sleeping, curled up in the shade of a parked car, right behind the rear tires.
The owner of the vehicle came out, got in, started up, then began to back up. I made a dash to snatch the dog out from behind the wheels. The dog was sound asleep, not pleased that a strange woman was suddenly yanking him around. The dog struggled, peed all over my new jeans, tried to bite me and in the moment, I left one of my dainty little feet under the wheel where the car backed over it.
I let out a blood curdling scream. The car stopped, the driver jumped out very concerned that he had run over the poor dog. I’m hollering my head off, the dog had emptied his bladder on me plus dished out a nasty bite, my foot is squished, and this guy is worried about the dog? I finally got it through to him that I was the hurt one. I let the dog go. It was desperate to get away from the screeching person hanging onto its tail with a death grip.
X-rays showed no broken bones. I went home. My artist friend was amazed at how many colors a mashed foot can have. Purple, black, blues, even orange. I was not amused with her at all.
The best part, a nice dog didn’t get run over. The very worst, I had a date lined up to go dancing with a male of my liking. I had to phone him and say, ” I have a foot-ache, not tonight honey!”
