Frickin' DOG!

Last Thursday night, I had the brilliant idea to bring my dog to a small park to let him expend some pent up energy. So I bought this sixty foot long, hunter-orange leash. I hooked him up, and away we went. He was havin' a grand ole' time, zippin' back and forth like a maniac. Back and forth, back and forth.

"Good, he'll sleep sound tonight," I thought to myself.

Just as I'm laughing out loud (because the dog looks like he needs an exorcism), I happened to look down at my feet and noticed the leash. Meanwhile, he's haulin' arse, full speed, accross the field. For such a big dog, he can really move. When he runs, it looks like he's gliding. I begin to admire his agility and I'm happy he's enjoying himself when I suddenly realize,

"Oh God, the leash is wrapped around me like the string on a kite spool. Quick! Quick, pull it up over your head and turn around the opposite way to unwrap, quick, he's near the end of the.... AAARRRRRHHHHHGGGG!!!!!!"

My 115 pound, runaway train-of-a-dog pulls on the leash so hard that it bends my elbow backwards like a flamingo! I let go of the leash and grab my elbow. I can't bend it. Uhmahgad, uhmahgad, oooooh-mah-gad this hurts so bad. Courage hears me yelping and stops. I must've been making some funny noises, 'cause he did that "BENEFUL?" head tilt and looked at me. He trots over and looks up at me to ask,

"hey, woman. What's with all the hootin' and a hollerin'?"

Then he bends down and starts licking his paw because in his joi de vive, he got lawn burn on one of the little pads of his paws. So now, he's bleeding. I just stood there for a while, squeezing my eyes shut (trying not to cry) and embracing my elbow. He continues to lick. There we are, a couple of gimps in the middle of the park, just standing there, looking at eachother.

I said to him, "let's blow this popcicle stand."
He echos, "Let's make like horse poop and hit the trail."

We limped home. My elbow is still swollen. I can hardly bend it, can't hold a pen and couldn't brush my teeth this morning (had to do it left handed, and those of you out there that claim to be "ambidextrous" try that one on for size).

I thought I'd just shake it off and be fine. Then I realize I'm not sixteen years old anymore. Here it is three days later, and it still hurts like a mo' fo'. I ended up going to my doctor on Friday, just to make sure it wasn't broken or dislocated. The good news is that it's not broken. The other good news is that I'm having a hard time bringing the fork up to my mouth. The bad news is, I've been out of work for two days because all I do is sit and type and talk on the phone, etc. The doc says that I pulled a muscle & tendons and that this type of injury typically takes two to three weeks to heal. Ugh. It's taking four times longer to write this blog because I've adopted sawheeeet single-handed, hunt & pick typing skills. Frickin' dog.