A Dog and His Girl

G and the girlies took the little yorkies out for a walk. I was vegging and just couldn't bear to go out in the cold. Soon after they left Pachino (Cheeney to me), our 160lb blind Mastiff rescue began to elicit a very sad whine with intermittent wookie sounds. He may be blind but he knew that he had been left out of the walk. That was enough to melt my heart into a little puddle so I donned my shoes, socks and coat and for good measure I wrapped Cheeney in one of my knit scarves. He was so happy he would have jumped for joy except that at 10 years old and 160 lbs, gravity just isn't a Mastiff's friend. A friendly woof and a lick was good enough for me.

Cheeney is a very trusting fellow. He walks close to you, almost in a lean, to make sure he knows where you are when you walk. He relies on your hand reaching down to rest on his back in reassurance every few blocks, wagging his tail furiously. As we reached the corner I began to step off the sloping curb. He felt my shift and instantly leaned hard into my side to make sure he was going where he was supposed to. He leaned too hard. My ankle went horizontal my leg stayed vertical and I fell in the gravel on the road in the middle of a mud puddle; a puddle that just a few days ago was beautifully fallen snow.

I let out a screech that I wasn't sure came from me. Then I laid down flat on my back. I tried to sit up and screeched again. I kept saying, "Don't leave me Cheeney, don't leave me". He licked my face, then laid down on the street next to me and rested his head on my chest while I was fighting tears and trying to get the nerve to reach down and touch my ankle. Every time a car would drive by he would stand up and watch it pass but after it passed he would lay back down.

And so there we were. A dog and his girl. We were there about ten minutes before someone actually stopped. Cheeney rose and took a step across my body. The young man asked cautiously, "Is the dog aggressive?" I started laughing. And assured him that Cheeney was loyal but not able to do much more than beat you to death with his wagging tail.

With it all said and done, I have torn ligaments and muscles. My toes, foot and ankle are the most peculiar shades of pinks and purples. And Pachino, (Cheeney to me) hasn't left my side since yesterday.