Thursday, August 14, 2014

Post neophobic

One time we were up north, we took the little dogs on a trail. I wasn’t sure how Tiny Dog would do. She was brand new to our family, and I wasn’t sure how much she could see with her dry eye scars or if she’d easily spook outside.

Well, she motored ahead like a fully sighted, large dog: over logs, staying on the path, small feet behind me, and then straight into a pond. I fished out, but she wasn’t panicked. I was impressed. She’s quite a brave yet petite role model.


Well, I did it. I land-SUP’ed instead of water SUP’ed. I got on a longboard and grabbed a land paddle (check out Big Kahuna: And who doesn’t like to coast along? Off your bidpedal clumsiness into a glide instead…

And then I left the bike path for the road. The bike path provides the cushion of grass right near by. The road does not. I face planted/belly flopped on the pavement. Here is the damages list: chin and palm abrasions, bruise on my hip the color of a purple potato, and a very swollen, painful left hand. Note to self: buy wrist guards.

The radiograph isn’t screaming this: fracture. My left hand looks like a fat pillow and I cannot grip so well. I can gripe just fine, though.

Tiny Dog really wanted to come with me out the door to the car, jumping up on my calves. She wasn’t even afraid of the size of the board in my hands. I had to deposit her on the couch in disbelief that I ever go anywhere without her. How could I? 

This is us at work. She insists on going every day.

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