Tank Boy left his Leapster in the truck last night. This morning? He wanted it.
Note to self: always check the pond before going to retrieve something out of the truck.
I didn’t do that. And? Because I didn’t do that? I wasn’t aware of the danger lurking in the pond.
I left Quinn in the house with the other kids while I made what was supposed to be a quick jaunt out of the garage and to the truck to retrieve the toy that would keep Tank Boy occupied while I shower this morning. I didn’t think to take my cell phone with me. I didn’t think to wake A~ up first. I didn’t think to check the pond.
I just went.
As I was nearing the truck, I heard it – the distinct sound of a large body emerging from the pond. I turned just in time to see Jake (aka Rude the Dog) sploshing as quickly as he could from whatever depths he had gone to, and Dagny, just now catching on to my presence, in the pond up to her chin.
Jake, in all his hairy wetness, ran for me. The truck was much closer than the door, so I ran for the safety of my Suburban. Have you ever tried to outrun a German Shepherd? Luckily I was very,very close to the truck.
I sprinted the three steps like a startled turtle and leaped in a back door, not unlike a broken-legged rhinoceros. I got myself shut in just in time.
Meanwhile the mini newfie had lumbered her way out of the pond and was approaching as well.
I found the coveted Leapster, but I was trapped; trapped in the middle row of my Suburban while two soaking-wet-pond-watery dogs circled like sharks; sharks who leave big, wet footprints and dripping, trailing rivers of water on the concrete; sharks who want to jump all over me with big wet paws and slobbery tongue kisses.
There I sat, wondering how I was ever going to escape unscathed, wondering what would become of my children. Was L~ watching out for Quinn? I hadn’t instructed her specifically to do so, since I thought I’d only be outside for a minute. Would A~ ever wake up and take responsibility for things? How hot was it supposed to get today? Would I roast to death before the dogs would dry?
Why wouldn’t they just go away already? Why?????
I finally mustered the courage and opened the door. No dogs. I looked left. I looked right. No dogs. Jake was on the other side and hadn’t heard my door open. I had no idea where Dagny had gone. This I took as a good sign. Figured she had gone to rest under the deck.
I rushed from the truck like a person in the front of the pack being shoved from an over-crowded elevator and began running through my garage, as much unlike Alice Cullen as is humanly possible.
And there she was: Dagny, in the back of the garage, trying to get in the door before me. Suddenly I was charged by my pond-watery mini newf. I dodged right. I swerved left. I put my hand out and firmly said, “No.”
And because of that quick thinking I’m alive to tell the tale, with only one wet nose spot on my thigh (should be noted that I initially and accidentally typed “thing” instead of “thigh”).
Drama much? Now I’m off to shower.
*Edited to add: Umm . . . I hope you all don’t think I’m actually taking myself seriously here. I mean, I did jump into the truck so as not to be covered in dog slobber, pond water and fur, but I didn’t actually stay there that long. And I did look for the dogs before clamboroing back out and sprinting through the garage, and Dagny did come running at me from the back of the garage, but really, not actually traumatic, dramatic or any other kind of “matic”. Just a little humorous. I’ve got to look for the humor in these kinds of things, because these kinds of things happen ALL THE TIME, and if I can’t find the delays, interruptions and inconveniences funny they will drive me insane (which they may actually be doing anyway). So if you laughed, my job is done. If you scoffed and thought, “Stupid woman, acting like that was some cataclysmic event,” then either I’m a really bad writer or you’re a really judgmental person. I know which one I’m leaning towards. 😉