Tempt Fate and Get Your Ass Kicked

I have a dog.  He is my bestest boy. 

You have probably seen his picture here if you have been around a while.

He is the last Yule present my husband gave me, so to say he is special to me is an understatement.

My boy, Mish, just turned 3.

He is normally a very smart dog.  German shepherds are like that.  He learns fast, retains it well and is eager to please.

Sometimes.

For some reason lately, he has been tempting fate and it finally kicked him in the ass today.

Every morning Mish and I go for a run around the pasture.  I should say, he runs, I drive the 4-wheeler.  It’s a good thing for both of us.  He gets to burn off some of his energy, build up his muscles and keep him at a slim 100-ish pounds.  I get to go around the place making sure things are as they should be.  And hopefully, any predators in the area get the message that we are here, we are loud, we are proud, and they should leave toot suite.

This has been our routine since he was big enough to keep up with the 4-wheeler.   

He knows when its time for our daily jaunt and regardless of the fact that I am still drinking coffee and it’s still dark outside this time of year, he lets me know that it’s time to get my butt up and take him out.  In his mind 6:30 am is run time.

If I chose to keep drinking my coffee he will get more and more insistent.  He will try to push my laptop closed with his nose.  He will come over to the side of my chair and push his nose into my face.  He will whine, whine, whine!

I tell him it’s still dark out, but no, his answer is “get up mom, we gots to go!”

No respect I tell ya, no respect!

Back to today’s ass kicking.

We are doing our normal route out thru the pasture.  He knows this route well and could run the whole thing without me even being there is he really wanted too. 

For whatever reason in his brain, he has recently decided that when I make the turn to head back, he has to herd the 4-wheeler by running in and biting the tires, barking, and then running right in front of me. 

When he does this, and its every friggen day, I stop, make him sit and get in his face with my best stern mom voice tell him in no uncertain terms, NO!

Do you think he listens to me?  Heck no!

I’m sure this is some of his herding instinct kicking in and he feels I’m not going fast enough for him, but since I prefer not to drift thru the loose dirt or roll over, I do tend to take the turn rather slowly. 

Since I know he is going to do this, I turn even slower so I don’t waffle him into the ground.  He is not impressed with me not driving like I’m at Daytona speed way.

Today was even slower however since I needed to put the SD cards back into the game cameras.  BTW not much interesting turned up on them this week.  A few turkeys and a jackrabbit was all.

As I’m putting the cards in, he has decided to water a few trees.  Always good to let the coyotes know the bad ass is here.

I start to move and the tire-biting-run-in-front-of-mom trick has started.

We get past that stage at the turn spot and head back towards our upper pasture.  Dropped the second SD card and went to the third one which is behind the barn. 

Normally after this I make a second run thru the upper pasture for him to run more.

So I slow down for this turn and he starts with the kamikaze run again. 

Bad mistake.

This is where the ass kicking comes in.

I ran him over.

Or would it be more appropriate to say, he threw himself under the 4-wheeler?

Yeah, I went right over him.  Rolled him right the heck over, back feet flying in the air, right over.

I really hate these “Oh shit” moments.

I jumped out and ran around the front to get to him.  He had gotten up and walked a few feet off before sitting down. 

And he was giving me the most accusing look you could ever see from a dog.  Seriously, if he could talk I have no doubt that what would be coming out of his mouth would be something along the lines of “what the F did you just do to me?  How dare you run me over!  I thought you loved me!!!”

And I’m saying to him “I’m so sorry!  Are you ok baby?  Are you hurt?  I’m so sorry!”

I start running my hands over him looking for anything busted.  Nothing felt odd, out of place, busted, or bleeding.  He had no point tenderness, no flinching when I pushed and poked, didn’t try to bite me and no pain yipping. 

How the heck he didn’t get hurt, I will never figure out. 

He is more bad ass than I imagined! 

He would not get in the 4-wheeler to go home, instead he chose to run.  Yes, that’s right.  He ran with me back to the house. 

This time giving me a wide berth. 

It’s been a few hours now since the incident and he is doing all his doggy things normally.  He is being a bit more clingy than normal, but otherwise he is himself.

As for me, the shaking hands finally stopped.  I would be devastated if I had hurt him, or worse, lost him.  His is my buddy, my best friend, and comforter when I am having a bad day. 

Maybe he learned a lesson, hopefully one he won’t soon forget. 

And I just grew another grey hair.

Blessed Be