The other night Blake went to bed and the lights upstairs were turned off. I left my study and walked through the darkened upstairs hallway. I only took one step before I went flying due to an invisible obstacle. That invisible obstacle was a well camouflaged Leo (dark blue fur against dark blue carpet in the dark). Usually I can take a step back or simply land on Leo softly and hug him, but this time I was walking fast and I really did go flying Superman-style.
These things last a fraction of a second, but feel like forever and in slow motion. You suddenly have enough time to think about what an idiot you are and contemplate various solutions to your predicament. That would have been immensely helpful if there was anything I could do, but there really wasn't. I went flying sideways right into the open bathroom and my right wrist brushed against the metal strike plate - that is essentially how I broke the fall and yes it hurt a bit.
|My mortal wound and the culprit|
So unlike what the picture implies this was not caused by a failed suicide attempt. Had I fallen harder and the strike plate was sharper this could have been a fairly inventive death scene for one of the Final Destination sequels.
|The next day|
If only this was the only bodily harm we have sustained from our big dogs. Mind you, I'm glad Leo was a Great Dane and not a Chihuahua as I might have been sent flying anyway in addition to flattening his head into a pancake. Also, Chihuahuas are extremely creepy animals and I would never be able to fall asleep with one of those ungodly creatures roaming free in the house.
|This is one horror movie I can't bring myself to watch.|
Also any movie with dogs wearing sunglasses on the
cover should have all of its copies burnt to a crisp.
Anyway... Great Danes don't realize how big and powerful they are which is basically the main reason loving Great Danes hurts. There is a learning curve and they get more intuitive, but it is a painful curve and they never ever become truly safe. Both Miron and I have both been dragged, slammed into the ground and had cracked, twisted and perhaps even broken bones from fingers to ribs. But just like all those gays on YouTube say, it gets better. Time heals all wounds (unless someone chopped your head off of course).
I'm not trying to tell you not to have a Great Dane. I'm trying to tell you not to have two Great Danes. Certainly if you're not fond of occasional physical abuse.
At least Leo has calmed down a bit in his old age as it was even dangerous to hug him when he was younger. He would get too excited and try to hug back by moving around, headbutting and elbowing his way into your heart.
Obviously we were quite concerned about bringing a baby into the house. As a baby the worst Blake had to endure was one of the dogs stepping on his fingers when he was crawling, but they quickly figured out it's utterly unacceptable and they just learnt to keep their distance from Blake. If Blake was the one initiating contact Leo and Kato would either get up carefully and walk away or lie as still as a statue (I was going to say corpse, but since Kato has passed away two years ago that would be a poor choice of words).
|Blake with the late Mr. Kato|
After Kato passed away we got Dexter. He was a rowdy puppy who needed (who am I kidding, still needs) to be taught manners. Dexter was fairly careful, but he did knock Blake off his feet twice. In both cases Dexter jumped backwards without looking as Blake ran towards him. Getting the wind knocked out of him twice was enough and Blake now enjoys seeing the dogs running and jumping from a safe distance.
We all adjusted quite well and out of the five of us only I get occasionally cut, bruised or tossed around so all is well. I wouldn't have it any other way.