I spent Saturday evening in the emergency room.
Had the reason been a one-off event, I’d have brushed it off as part and parcel of being a dog mom. However, this is not the first time my dog has been responsible for rendering me partially disabled.
I’m beginning to feel like a target.
On the weekend, we did what we always do - hit the dog park with my best friend and her mutt who happens to be Dezi’s best friend.
Just as we reached the absolute farthest away from civilization, out of nowhere, two large dogs ran into the back of my legs at top speed. Sadly, the two large dogs were ours and before I even knew what hit me, I was flat out on my back on the gravel path.
I imagine it looked something like this, only with dogs instead of a table.
Surprisingly, nothing hurt at first. I stood up, brushed myself off, and thought we could keep going…until I felt blood gushing down my arm.
My elbow and forearm were split wide open and there we stood…smack in the middle of coyote-owned property smelling like fresh meat, with the parking lot a good twenty minutes away.
Here’s the thing though. This isn’t the first time I’ve been sniped by my own dog at the dog park. Just over a year ago, not only did she cripple me but she showed me heaven’s actual door. I was just too stubborn to open it 😁
I discovered the most beautiful way to die
And here is the story I wrote about that incident last year:
It has been said in cases of near death, people experience such beauty and comfort that they don’t want to come back to this realm. They say what lies beyond felt so reassuring that they would have happily gone on and never looked back.
I had that experience last week and now I know where I want to be when I die. If I could have a crossover experience like this, I’d happily go.
It happened at the dog park and for a brief moment, my pain was so excruciating I was convinced I was on a one-way out of this world.
Picture this:
You’re happily enjoying a peaceful morning at a dog park. You’re watching your 85-pound heap of fur and slobber having the time of her life racing around the field amidst a cluster of other 85-pound dogs.
Their joy is palpable as they blindly rocket through wide open space with no regard for anything but sheer aerodynamics.
Suddenly the cluster of canines morphs into a clusterfuck, zeroed in on you with the precision of a flesh-seeking missile.
Before your brain even registers what’s about to happen, a 400-pound herd of wild animals smashes into your legs at full speed.
You are airborne for what feels like an eternity before you come crashing down to the muddy earth. And you’re now acutely aware of what full-body paralysis feels like.
Even if you could move, the pain in your knee makes it clear that moving is not the best option.
That was me last week and after the incident, I lay there in a deep, dark tunnel. I heard muffled, frantic voices uttering the words ‘ambulance’ and ‘Can you move?’ at the other end of the tunnel.
But what I felt next is what brought me back to life. I’m sure of it.
Even before any humans leapt into rescue mode, all the dogs corralled around me. They performed life support as if it were their job, smothering my face with licks and kisses.
Was I in heaven?
Because this is what my version of the afterlife actually looks like!
Coming out of my daze, I realized my dog was faithfully sitting on top of my body, claiming me as her property. She had fully engaged in protection mode.
Once I was coherent enough to answer, “Can you move?” with a solid NO, two men leaned over to pick me up, carry me to a nearby bench, and lay me down.
From a prone position, the only direction I could look was up. Seeing the beautiful blue, sunny sky I thought, “There are at least a thousand worse ways to die!”
That’s how I want to go. At the dog park getting licked to death on my journey toward milkbones in the sky.
Of course, I’m being dramatic. I was nowhere near death that day but I did sustain a knee fracture and a grade four tear of my MCL (the worst level).
If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to cross over, I hope your version is as wonderful as mine was.
As the ER doctor amputated, then cleaned and sewed my arm back on, and jabbed me with a tetanus shot he said, “Maybe the universe is trying to tell you to stay the hell away from the dog park.”
I don’t know, though. We’ve only reached two of the 1000 ways to die. 998 still to go.
All jokes aside…
Dog parks are serious business.
My knee injury last year gave me one month on crutches, another two months with a cane, six months of intensive physiotherapy, and ultimately cost me my job.
It took just under nine months to be able to sit cross-legged again.
My physiotherapist told me that a whopping 45% of ligament injuries she treats are from dog park injuries. Bless her heart for being forced to watch me melt down on her bed every week and bawl with joy over the triumph of completing ONE rotation on a stationary bike.
So, sadly but also smartly, I think I’ll be taking a long hiatus from the dog park after this arm injury. I’d rather be in a plane crash than get hit even one more time.
Oh no! So sorry to hear you’re injured. Sending healing wishes for a speedy recovery!
Sobering and strangely uplifting at the same time. My dog is a shameless ball stealer so we avoid dog parks. But he has knocked me over, and in his younger days I sometimes worried he could pull me in front of a moving car.