So it's no secret that I have baby fever. I have for a while, and I probably will until the stick turns blue. I currently have 13 pregnant friends or acquaintances – it's no wonder I have baby on the brain. The first one is all set to drop on October 1 (come on, Mary! Pop that baby out!) and the last one on the list is due sometime in March. With any amount of luck (or grace or faith or whatever it takes), I'll be adding my name to that list by the time the last baby drops.
Thus far, my little list of women has been a very accurate predictor of gender. Rachel started the list with a boy and has since been followed exactly in order – boy, girl, boy, girl, boy, girl. The next friend on the list is Carey and according to my list, she's having a girl. We'll see if that's accurate, but so far, my little list was right about Ashley, Deena, and Amy – 3 for 3 ain't bad.
Assuming that I don't have to add any other friends to the list before I add myself, Doug and I should have a boy. Considering that we haven't even conceived yet, that's a long shot, but that's my prediction today.
** N.B. Daniel's actual conception date was 9/29/2007, the day of this post.**
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Rough weekend for Dasha
I just glanced back at my last post, which, ironically enough, had to do with Maddie having a rough weekend. This weekend, it was Dasha's turn. This weekend was a bit more dramatic.
I decided to take Dasha jogging Friday night - not something unusual as I had also taken Dasha jogging on Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday of this very same week. We've taken the same route every time we've gone jogging for the better part of 3 years. Nothing unusual has ever happened, except maybe a trashy guy honking at me, but that's something that can be ignored.
I guess your luck has to run out sooner or later, which for Dasha and me, translates into 2 very large, very aggressive Rottweilers chasing you down the street and trying to kill you. I had seen the dogs the day before. We jogged by, they growled and almost pulled their owner out of his lawn chair, and we kept going. I was a little concerned, but the owner seemed to be intent on keeping them in his yard. Friday, the larger of the two dogs (I assume the male) was tethered to a tree with a tow cable. Yeah - those things you use to tow cars and trucks when they break down. Evidently, this cable was no match for a blood-lusting junk-yard dog.
We had just passed the house when he busted loose from the cable and came tearing down the street. I panicked, but didn't lose my head. I remembered a friend of mine telling me about being chased by a dog. He jumped in the back of a pickup and avoided the altercation altogether. It just so happened that we were next to an old F-150. The dog was bearing down on us and my hands were shaking, which wouldn't have mattered anyway - the stupid tailgate was stuck. If it had worked, I could have gotten Dasha into the back of the truck just in time, but as luck would have it (or just as out-of-luck would have it, in this case), the tailgate jammed just as the dog tackled Dasha. In retrospect, I should have hoisted her over the gate and jumped over after her. But even at that, there's nothing saying that the dogs couldn't have come over the gate after us. Talk about your real-life Cujo. . .
Back to the story - The owner was running down the street with the smaller of the dogs on his heels. By smaller, I mean she probably outweighed me by 25 pounds instead of by 50. By now, the male had my poor puppy on her back, jaws locked around her throat. She was screaming, I was screaming - I didn't know I was related to Jamie Lee Curtis, but damn I have some lungs. . .
The guy grabbed the male just in time for the female to pick up where her evil cohort left off. She elected to go for Dasha's torso.
Bad boy! he's telling this dog, like it gives a flying flip. I'm still screaming - They're killing her! They're killing her! I didn't know what else to do. I realize now that I shouldn't have screamed, but what was I supposed to do? They would have outrun us and I was no match for either of the dogs. I was kicking them and hitting them, but it did no good. Those dogs were after blood.
The owner finally gets a hold of both dogs. As soon as they were secured, I was running like I haven't run ever in my life. The guy's wife was in the street, terrified. She was really concerned about me, but I was just worried about getting Dasha home and away from those dogs. Five more people tried to stop me on my way through the crowd, but I just wanted to get home. It was all I could do to keep the tears from pouring down my face, but somehow I managed.
We sprinted the rest of the way - I was desperate to get home. I fell into the doorway and broke into hysterics. Doug had no idea what was going on and I couldn't gain enough composure to tell him. When I finally choked down a full breath of air, I started to relay the story to him. He was headed out the door to go kill the dogs, but I managed to talk him into staying with me. We compromised - I'm calling animal control in the morning.
Later that evening, I noticed that Dasha was bleeding. I checked her over when we got home, but I guess I missed the puncture wound in her chest. It was rather difficult to see through the blur of tears. . . Anyway, aside from being a little skiddish and the small scab on her chest, she's ok. I think I've suffered more from the attack than she did, but with a little time, the nightmares and my jumpiness will pass. . .
I decided to take Dasha jogging Friday night - not something unusual as I had also taken Dasha jogging on Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday of this very same week. We've taken the same route every time we've gone jogging for the better part of 3 years. Nothing unusual has ever happened, except maybe a trashy guy honking at me, but that's something that can be ignored.
I guess your luck has to run out sooner or later, which for Dasha and me, translates into 2 very large, very aggressive Rottweilers chasing you down the street and trying to kill you. I had seen the dogs the day before. We jogged by, they growled and almost pulled their owner out of his lawn chair, and we kept going. I was a little concerned, but the owner seemed to be intent on keeping them in his yard. Friday, the larger of the two dogs (I assume the male) was tethered to a tree with a tow cable. Yeah - those things you use to tow cars and trucks when they break down. Evidently, this cable was no match for a blood-lusting junk-yard dog.
We had just passed the house when he busted loose from the cable and came tearing down the street. I panicked, but didn't lose my head. I remembered a friend of mine telling me about being chased by a dog. He jumped in the back of a pickup and avoided the altercation altogether. It just so happened that we were next to an old F-150. The dog was bearing down on us and my hands were shaking, which wouldn't have mattered anyway - the stupid tailgate was stuck. If it had worked, I could have gotten Dasha into the back of the truck just in time, but as luck would have it (or just as out-of-luck would have it, in this case), the tailgate jammed just as the dog tackled Dasha. In retrospect, I should have hoisted her over the gate and jumped over after her. But even at that, there's nothing saying that the dogs couldn't have come over the gate after us. Talk about your real-life Cujo. . .
Back to the story - The owner was running down the street with the smaller of the dogs on his heels. By smaller, I mean she probably outweighed me by 25 pounds instead of by 50. By now, the male had my poor puppy on her back, jaws locked around her throat. She was screaming, I was screaming - I didn't know I was related to Jamie Lee Curtis, but damn I have some lungs. . .
The guy grabbed the male just in time for the female to pick up where her evil cohort left off. She elected to go for Dasha's torso.
Bad boy! he's telling this dog, like it gives a flying flip. I'm still screaming - They're killing her! They're killing her! I didn't know what else to do. I realize now that I shouldn't have screamed, but what was I supposed to do? They would have outrun us and I was no match for either of the dogs. I was kicking them and hitting them, but it did no good. Those dogs were after blood.
The owner finally gets a hold of both dogs. As soon as they were secured, I was running like I haven't run ever in my life. The guy's wife was in the street, terrified. She was really concerned about me, but I was just worried about getting Dasha home and away from those dogs. Five more people tried to stop me on my way through the crowd, but I just wanted to get home. It was all I could do to keep the tears from pouring down my face, but somehow I managed.
We sprinted the rest of the way - I was desperate to get home. I fell into the doorway and broke into hysterics. Doug had no idea what was going on and I couldn't gain enough composure to tell him. When I finally choked down a full breath of air, I started to relay the story to him. He was headed out the door to go kill the dogs, but I managed to talk him into staying with me. We compromised - I'm calling animal control in the morning.
Later that evening, I noticed that Dasha was bleeding. I checked her over when we got home, but I guess I missed the puncture wound in her chest. It was rather difficult to see through the blur of tears. . . Anyway, aside from being a little skiddish and the small scab on her chest, she's ok. I think I've suffered more from the attack than she did, but with a little time, the nightmares and my jumpiness will pass. . .
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