Thank You

I attached the leash to Maggie’s new leather color, and left the house for our daily afternoon walk. Five days out of seven, side by side, Maggie and I walk the same route through my small Sonoran neighborhood. We see Theodore, an elderly man who also walks around the same time, with a bucket hat, and cane in hand. I say hello, and then take note of what an absolutely beautiful warm Arizona spring day it is. Maggie is in her usual deep sniffing mode with her nose buried down to the cement, and looks up every once in a while at an occasional alley-cat or two.
I know every crack in the cement along our route, and Maggie knows every barking neighborhood dog behind every wall. Which is why what hit me next, couldn’t have been more of a surprise.

THUD.

What in the hell just happened? It was awfully quiet for about five seconds, until I looked up, and was at near eye level with my fluffy red golden retriever. Maggie proceeded to lick my deeply confused face, when I finally realized I was laying face down on the sidewalk right in front of my house.

I looked up to see Keri, my roommate, watering the freshly potted flowers by our garage door. Keri explained that she had to pull the house from the other side of the house around so that it could reach, which in turn had to wrap around my Jetta. The slightly curved “U” shaped section of the hose stuck out just enough on the edge of the sidewalk to allow me to eat cement. Luckily, Keri had not seen or heard, since the sound of the water coming from the hose was so loud.

She asked why my knee was so bloody, and I just said, “Thank you”.