The Dog Whisperer could fill half a season’s worth of episodes with the dog issues that exist in the AuburnChick home.

I really could have used his assistance today.
As you know, the weather has taken a sunny turn. In fact, it was even warm enough for Soccer Chick to tan herself by the neighborhood pool. Of course, I did not go. I’m not a huge fan of showing my bod in a bathing suit any more. Don’t want to scare the locals, you know.
So, I stayed inside, caught up in a knitting-induced stupor.
Then, I caught sight of Aubie and Pele, lazily looking up at me.

One peek at the sunny day outside, and I knew what I had to do.
I asked if they wanted to go for a walk. I thought it would be fun to surprise Chicky with a visit from the pooches.
Lord have mercy, but you would have thought I’d told them that there was a garden of treats outside. They were that excited.
I hitched them to their leashes, and off we went.
These are strong dogs, individually. Put together, a challenge for someone as petite as me.
I did the Dog Whisperer thing and kept the dogs close to my side, pulling on their leashes when they started getting ahead. We were making progress, albeit slowly.
Then, an obstacle.
A small dog across the street spotted us and started yapping in that annoying midget-dog-kind-of-way.
Aubie’s ears perked up, and she adopted the predatory look she gets when she envisions something as food. I first saw this look on her face when we had Chloe, the rabbit.
I jerked back on the leash, and she obeyed. She’s smart.
Pele, on the other hand, is a follower. He sensed Aubie’s anxiety and got excited.
He’s almost 80 pounds, and when he pulls, he doesn’t do so gently.
Still, I was able to get him under control.
We tried to walk on by…still across the street, mind you.
And then it happened.
That stupid little yappy dog from a part of the underworld I don’t ever plan on visiting got off its leash and ran across the street in full attack mode.
Why, pray tell, do five pound mutts assume they own the world?
Hello?
There are two sides of the street, and I wasn’t in your space.
But no…dumb dog had to tell us that it owned ALL of the land.
Oh man, but this ticked off Aubie royally.
To her credit, I don’t know if the actions that followed were due to her desire to protect me or to swallow that fur ball in one bite.
Whatever Aubie does, Pele does, much like Simon says.
Through telepathy, my babies took off toward that insane little dog, with me doing my best to hold onto their leashes.
They were too strong for me.
I assumed the position of Iditarod driver.
What? Never seen this?
It’s when you bend your knees and sort of sit into the pull that’s being exacted.
The only difference is that you’re not riding on a sled. Oh no, your sled is your shoes, and the grass is your snow.
Oh yeah. I forgot about the concrete.
I made a rude discovery.
The older you get, the less balance you have…especially when you have about 120 pounds of other living flesh pulling you around.
Down I went.
I honestly don’t remember which part hit first. I suspect it was my right knee, followed by my right hip, followed by my elbow, followed by my wrist.
It’s all a blur.
I vaguely remember being dragged a few inches.
When I looked up, I saw Pele had gotten loose and was running toward Little Dog, who was, in turn, yelping in fear at the sight of Big Dog approaching it.
In my right hand was Aubie’s leash. Although she still had the hungry look, she was not going anywhere thanks to my determined effort.
Pele, being the big but harmless dog that he is, trotted back to me and sat on the sidewalk, waiting for me to pick up his leash.
I took a moment to do a quick body check. All parts accounted for, I ensured that Dog from Down Under (and I’m not talking about Australia here) had not been bitten.
It hadn’t. Lucky thing, even though it was the one who instigated the entire affair.
Leashes in hand, my pooches and I departed for home.
We had not even made it to the corner of my street.
I was mad as a hornet and gave them a What For as I limped home.
When I walked in the door, I broke down.
Then, I did an injury check.
First, my knee was scraped up. Fortunately, I had been wearing blue jeans. Sometimes being cold-natured pays off. While I didn’t have a hole in my pants, I can see where the material was worn through a bit.
Next, I noticed an issue with my right butt cheek (sorry to get descriptive) and my hip. I think I’ll have a bruise from landing there. I probably twisted funny as I hit the ground, hence the hitch in my step.
And then I pulled up my sleeve…


Yes, that’s how dedicated of a blogger I am. In between my tears, released from the surge of adrenaline, fear, and relief, I asked the Mr. to take pictures.
I cleaned myself up (thank you peroxide) and let my boo boo air out.
When Soccer Chick got home from the pool (remember that I never made it to see her), I told her the story.
She told me that although she knew it was scary, the mental picture of me going down and being dragged was a little funny.
She’s right.
But I’m still sore (literally and figuratively).
Chicky was kind enough to bandage me up so that I could write my blog…

If I had the money, I would totally fly the Dog Whisperer out to Podunk, USA to help me train my furry babies better.
I think Little Dog could use some training too.
Filed under: Pets | Tagged: Dog Whisperer, dogs, Pets | 3 Comments »