Little ol' Willy-poo and I have been walking a lot. Most of it happens at the dog park because he can be off-leash and I can keep track of how far we've walked. One lap = .45 miles. Usually I try to go 4 laps, occasionally 5 laps, but sometimes Mr. Snoopy pants can get a little too much sniffin' and not enough walkin' and we only get in 3.
Anyway, I'm very leery of when people bring their kids inside. Personally, I'm of the opinion that they don't belong there. Some dogs are just too mean. My dog, on the other hand, is just too friendly. Wilson loves kids. Especially the ones that are running and jumping. He thinks they're an open invitation to jump on them and potentially knock them into next week. He doesn't know his own strength, but I do.
So last night we were coming up on the "big log area" where kids tend to hang out and jump off the logs. I knew it was too much temptation for him, so I grabbed his collar and proceeded to walk him away from that spot. Well then apparently I tripped on a hole in the ground and, in trying to catch my balance, I couldn't keep hold of his collar. It was like slow motion. Where you think, "No, this couldn't possibly be happening to me. Surely I'm not about to fall in front of all these people." The next thing I know, I'm face down in the grass with a loud thud and Wilson is off bounding toward the running boys.
Face plant. In the dog park. Ya, that was me.
Fortunately there were no piles of poo anywhere near.
Some very nice ladies saw me go down and came running over to make sure I was ok. I was fine (although I'm quite sore today and my finger is swollen some). I was more concerned about the kids he went after. Their dad assured me they were fine.
That was almost as embarrassing as the time I puked all over the school office my freshman year. The principal didn't think I could possibly be sick since I had just barely started first period - Typing I with Mrs. Zoz. Well, I showed him.