I Will Love My Dogs Again Tomorrow

Remember mention of how allotted writing time seems to be constantly interrupted?

Well, this morning that interruption was the sound of a dog whimpering outside.  Gambit had managed to squirm under the back deck, and couldn't manage to squirm back out.  He wanted out so badly, we couldn't scarcely dig at the perimeter without hitting him with the little shovel. 

After twenty minutes of chaos--panicked Gambit under the deck, anxious Ty pacing on the deck, Dev and I trying to both calm Gambit and dig him out--I fetched my Black & Decker and took up two of the deck boards.  Dev pulled Gambit out, and I set the boards back in.  I only used a single screw on each end to anchor them, just in case Little Bit decides to go backyard-spelunking again.

Then, as I'm trying to prepare dinner, Ty the Wonderdog took his turn at making the day memorable.  Y'see, Ty has the bad habit of slinking into the kitchen while I'm cooking, no doubt hoping I'll drop a carnivore's delight under his nose.  He can be remarkably quiet when he chooses to be.  Looking over my shoulder to make sure he isn't sitting right behind me has become a habit.  A habit I skipped tonight. 

Empty crockpot in hand, I turned from the counter and went tumbling over the big dog.  I managed to avoid face-planting by bouncing off the fridge, and might have managed a proper (albeit clumsy) roll, had Ty not been doing a panic-scramble that tangled my legs yet again.  I landed first on Ty, then on one knee and arm--with the crockpot rammed into my ribs.

Ow.

Thankfully, nothing hurts badly enough to be broken.

And, as I'm lying on the floor trying to decide if it is actually safe to move, the dogs start licking my face.

I shall now go write "I will not sell my dogs to the traveling circus." a thousand times.