I’m sure I’ve blogged about our little dog Charlie. AKA Batman. He is a Havanese and we got him from the Humane Society about 9 years ago. The vet wasn’t sure how old he was, but guessed that he was about 2 so, at this time he is roughly 11 years old.
In his younger days, he would burrow under the fence to go on heroic adventures. I say that because I like the idea of him being a hero and not some random pooper and butt-sniffer of cats. Obviously we didn’t want him hit by a car or dognapped by the Joker, so we started walking out with him. Kinda like the President’s Secret Service, but we get to watch POTUS go poo and sniff at all things gross (cat hiney). Too bad we didn’t get those ear buds and could relay messages back and forth. ***sigh*** anyway...
Lately his age is catching up to him, and instead of Batman, he’s really more the Walter Mathau of Grumpy Old Men. He really just wants to eat, sleep and go poo. Other than the occasional cat-butt sniffing and begging for food… he is basically lying in the floor under everyone’s feet.
So the other day, early in the morning, he tells me he needs to go potty. And by “tells me” it’s more he wiggles in front of the door when you say “wanna go outside?”. And it was pouring. Because of his hatred of all things wet, I knew he had to go pretty bad. So I grabbed my robe and out we went.
He runs right out to the grass then darts around the house. I am standing under the eve of the porch trying not to get wet. I stand there for what seems like a lifetime.
Finally I decide that he’s gone AWOL again, so I do that thing where you kinda walk/run/jog on your toes so that your entire foot doesn’t get soaked. Somehow, I slipped and fell. And not in a graceful Jennifer Lawrence at the Oscars way. More like legs and arms flailing, a very girlie squeal, and robe falling completely open way. Ok, I had on shorts and a t-shirt on underneath, but that is a moot point – I was down. Now I REALLY wished we had those secret service ear bud things. “hot momma down, repeat, hot momma is down…. POTUS is mia…. POTUS is mia”.
As if this wasn’t bad enough, I could NOT get up. Like my arms and legs were somehow disconnected from my brain. I felt like the Scarecrow in Oz. Seriously ya’all, I couldn’t get enough leverage to get up. Finally I just stopped, tried to catch my breath and take a quick peek around to see if any neighbors were around. I’m not sure if I was happy or sad or too loopy to find no one outside.
As I’m laying on the wet grass, in the pouring rain, trying to keep my robe together, here comes Batman. He pauses, sniffs my way, then promptly runs to the porch where it’s dry.
WORST BATMAN EVER!!!! Even Lassie helped that stupid kid get out of the well all the time. (by the way… where was this kids mom… he was always in some sort of trouble. And isn't one time in the well enough to learn to stay away from it? And further was the dad Cesar Mallan? How did he know what that dog was saying?). Anyway, it was obvious I was on my own.
After a lifetime of struggling, and talking to myself (which may or may not have included naughty words) I managed to get to my feet. I walk into the house AFTER Batman had darted in first, lest he be left outside even near the rain. My daughter and her friend were just waking up and watching tv. They see me and ask what happened. (They sensed something was amiss because of the mud, grass clippings, the soaking wet hair, the smell of hatred oozing from my every pore and the leaf stuck to my neck). I finally catch my breath to tell them my harrowing adventure/near death experience and my daughters friend says. “Maybe you need life alert”.
So folks, this is what it comes down to. I was a broken hip away from the nursing home. I am so gonna hate getting old.
*POTUS = President of the United States.