So, our doggy is sweet and mostly well-behaved. But occasionally she'll do something that leaves you breathless, bloody, and shaken to the core. Like yesterday. Tassie and I went to the vet to get her nails done. Neither Bri nor I are willing to cut them since she'd wind up with bloody paws after nipping the cuticles. On our way back home, I thought, what a great idea, I'll have breakfast at the Food Factory and sit outside with Tassie.
So I go and order my food, then walk back outside and get Tassie from the car. We sit, and I tie her leash to my chair. Make a couple phone calls, the breakfast comes, I eat, talk, pet Tassie, give Tassie water, worship she who is Tassie, and finish breakfast.
So I get up to take my plate inside to leave it in the busbin (this is a semi-self service joint). As I walk outside I stop to talk to a man who is asking me about our new Honda Fit. How much mileage does it get, nice car, etcetera. Tassie sees me and starts to walk towards me. The chair moves. The chair makes a funny squeak noise. Tassie tries to get away from the squeaky noise. The noise follows her! She bolts!
"TASSIE!" I scream as she breaks into full panic mode, and begins to dash into the street. A car is coming but they/see hear us and stop. "TASSSIEE!!" I scream sprinting to catch her. She is going full blast. Across the street. Down the embankment. Through some scrub and some trees. Almost have her. "TASSSIEE!!!" She veers left. I veer left. I turn but there's gravel. I wipe out; she is running back into the street. "TASSSIIEE!" I spring up and chase her. Thank God, no cars are coming. She veers right, almost just in front of me. I leap out and grab her leash, roll to a stop. Her pupils are pinpricks. She's scared to death. I am the same. "Oh dear lord, Tassie," I sigh.
Untie her from the chair. It is broken. Her paws are bloody; wind sprints after a nail clipping is not a good idea. But she's OK.
I on the other hand, have lost another two years of life.