My Dog Is Trying To Kill Me

I’ve become aware over the last year or so, that my inclination towards clumsy behaviour is worsening somewhat. A prime example of this is that I’ve just managed to rather spectacularly fall down my stairs. My stairs aren’t particularly steep, and I wasn’t running up them, or dancing down them when I fell. I did however have the pooch at my heels (as always), and he seems to think that when we walk down the stairs it’s a race. He gives me a head start (presumably because I only have two legs compared to his four) and then he likes to gambol past me at a million miles an hour to beat me to the bottom. This is a game he plays, however I generally just ignore him and let him do his thing. Today however I think perhaps he thought I was in with a chance of beating him, and in a particularly unsporting fashion decided to leg me up half way down.

Now if it weren’t for my cat-like reflexes I would have missed grabbing the banister, and surely fallen to my demise in a gruesome “Death Becomes Her” fashion. However I just about managed to grab it, ensuring my fall was more of a bumpy slide down the last five or six steps. It didn’t stop me from staring accusingly up at the pooch from my crumpled heap position on the floor and stating...

“You pushed me down the stairs!”

Obviously he’s unaccustomed to seeing mummy on the same level as him, and he simply sat their wagging his tail and tapping me with his paws as if to say, well this is a good game isn’t it?

I’ve no doubt that I’ll have a number of bruises to show for this little incident, and the pooch (who is currently on the naughty step – or as it’s better known, his bed, with his ears flat against his head and tail wedged firmly between his legs) probably won’t pull a stunt like that again after the telling off he’s just had. My biggest concern however is that...what if I’d actually hurt myself? What if I’d broken my leg...or my neck!!? I could have been lying there for days before someone found me!

Living on your own has its draw backs for sure. When you’re single you miss the benefits of having a partner in as much as you’d like a warm body to cuddle up to in the night. When you house share with someone it’s nice to have someone to natter to of an evening. But one of the things you don’t really think about is the safety aspect. You forget that you could indeed become that Bridget Jones spinster, found dead in her flat months after the fact, half eaten by Alsatians...or in my case a rather dopey German Shepherd/Collie cross.

Now I’m trying my damnedest to not let this little incident freak me out, as the last thing I need to do is become terrified of being alone in my own home, but I am getting more and more clumsy as I get older. It’s kind of like dementia of the limbs. I think maybe I have caught spazzy coordination from Beck-lar, as that girl is the queen of the klutz. For now though I’ve purchased an industrial sized roll of bubble wrap to make sure I’m fully protected from any potential hazards until I can get a health and safety officer out to inspect the premises and any potential “danger” areas. Wish me luck!