Too Close For Comfort

… and I’m not talking about the sitcom with Ted Knight and Jim J Bullock that graced our TVs from 1980 to 1987.  Nope!  I’m talkin’ about my B.  He had a close call.  Too close for comfort.  What happened? Well I’ll tell ya.

Setting the stage.  It was a HOT almost summer day.  A Thursday to be exact.  The day before trash day to be even more specific.  Okay it was yesterday. 🙂

We live on a park like setting on the outskirts of town.  We are blessed.  B keeps our place looking good with his hard work and dedication.  How his grandma always thought he’d not amount to much … seeing as he is not “book” smart.    But only B could cut her grass the way she liked her grass done very neatly.    This is not stream, out of the rat hole Jilly.

Anyhoo, did I tell ya it was hot … blazing … heat index of 108 which is not typical for China Grove Texas.  Maybe in late July/early August but not June 20th.  And I think the heat had something to do with the encounter.

B was walking down the recycle to the road for pickup when he was almost mauled by a pack of stray dogs.  See that’s the perk of country life.  People dump unwanted pets.  There is one dog from the pack that we knew about.  A boxer mix who we’ve watched grow from puppy until now.  Our neighbors to the east feed him.  The other two dogs are new.  Both Pit mixes.  We’ve got nothing against Pits per se.  These two though, we’ve got something against them.

After B had dropped the recycle bin and was going back to get the trash bin, he heard the growls.  He turned to see the three dogs about 5 feet from where he was … He says he made eye contact to show dominance and backed away … slowly … very slowly.  He believes if he had ran, they would have mauled him.  He actually left his flip flops on the road as he continued backing up step by painful step.

Lulu texted me … welp we had another dog incident. I assumed she meant with our sweet boys … who while in good health are already nine years old.  That was until I called and she said dad almost got attacked by the strays.

I could tell B was shaken up because when I got home, he was out on the carport before I could stop the engine.  Telling me he had called animal control and the phone rang without answer.  He called the neighbors to offer a warning … be on the look out for the boxer and his new pack.  

I shudder to think what could have happened if Lulu, Pony or I had been the ones walking down the bins.  I’m positive we’d have landed in the hospital … or worse <shudder> again.

All’s well that ends well.  We’ll be on high alert.  Off to make the most of my #free72.

As always, more to come.

The Color of Healing

Today marks one week and three days since I fell in the rain.  Pre-dated picture taken at day five.  The yellowish, purplish, reddish bruising means I am healing!!  I’m also very LUCKY!!!

I shudder to think how my tumble could have ended up far worse.  No broken bones thank goodness.  And the pain subsided in a matter of hours. Other than my wounded pride, I dusted myself off and went on my merry way.

I feel a bit more wobbly these days for lack of a better explanation.  Ever since I broke my arm on November 11, 2017.  Perhaps all this is part of getting older but I sure don’t feel 29.  <wink, wink> Okay I sure don’t feel 49! Okay, maybe I don’t feel almost double nickel.  Anyhoo, I am off from work (or supposed to be).  I will try real hard to stay away.

#free48 folks #free72 for me.  Hope it’s a good one.

As always, more to come.