First off let me say that everything is now fine. More or less.
But my puppy Gob got out the front door this morning when I was going to the mailbox. So, naked except for a nightgown and furry socks, fresh from taking my nasty meds and with a migraine stabbing my right eye I tore down Hallcrest Court after eight pounds of black lightning.
It was one of the most purely horrible moments of my life. I think I died eighteen times in the space of ten minutes.
If you don’t believe in Angels or Fate or any of those things and are just content to believe in coincidence I suppose that’s your prerogative and all fine. But what were the odds that the one day my dog broke loose was the day that my trucker neighbour who himself is a dog veteran (he has had 2 bichon Frisés in the time we’ve lived here) was not only home but in his front yard and able to help me? Of course the fact that he’s seen me nearly naked with vomit staining my nightgown is probably good enough reason for him to never stand in his front yard again.
I guess you could say that Angels or God or Fate would not have had me be enough of an idiot to open the front door when my wits weren’t entirely about it. But still, I guess God protected this fool and that child of a dog.
Still, I’m still horribly rattled by the whole thing, almost 4 hours later. The adrenaline started to wear off an hour ago. That reminds me…why don’t they just make adrenaline as a drug? I mean, I know they do…but why don’t we use it more often? Because in those long few minutes of running (boobs flapping in opposite directions…) I felt no pain or nausea or anything other than the cold hand of horror choking my heart and the endless visions of my dog dead on New Hope Road.
Oh well. I’m just sitting here blaring Zevon over the migraine–a weird experience that matches the weirdness of this day.
We all got home safely in the end but I hope to never repeat that experience.