Man vs. Squirrel

It was a morning like any other -- the only difference is I was trying to cram a Max walk in before another busy day at work, so I leashed him up to take a spin through the neighborhood. I use a harness and a retractable leash so Max can explore a little without being confined to the regular six-foot leash.

The inherent problem in the Burns Park neighborhood is it's replete with squirrels --one of whom even took up residence in our attic. (A story for another day!)

As we rounded the corner onto Granger, I spotted a couple of the furry little beasts and we skipped into a jog to play our game of let's pretend to go catch the squirrel. I'm usually pretty good about paying attention, but in some sort of karmic revenge of the squirrels for our torment, Max ran much much quicker than the retractable leash and my short legs could keep up, and I was soon face first on the cement.


Picture, if you will, the kids' summer game of Slip-n-Slide, but it all taking place on a sidewalk, me dragged a few feet. At some point I must have had the brilliant idea to finally let go of the leash -- that or my weakness, and Max continued to race after the squirrels until they ended up in a tree.

After about 30 stunned seconds, I collected myself, only to find Max calmly sitting under the tree as if to say "Uh, can we get going on this walk?" One kind soul walking her dog asked if I was okay, which for the most part I was. I picked up the leash as best I could, despite the profusion of blood in the palms of my hands, and headed home. Luckily I was only a few short blocks away.
And lucky for you, my initial instinct to photograph the injury was overcome by my rush to get to work -- that and the fact our minimalist household was ill equipped to care for my wounds, so my prework routine also necessitated a stop at the pharmacy!

When I got home, I discovered a horrible bruise to my hip, that my shorts had been terribly ripped and my phone, that was in a solid leather case, had broken!


After the adrenaline of the whole ordeal wore off, the pain started to kick in, and a gracious colleague offered me her Tylenol. Of course, my line of work isn't exactly conducive to recuperating the injury either. By the end of a morning of rapid fire court testimony, the hand that was holding the leash was aching. I soon worried perhaps I had broken my wrist and it was off to the urgent care clinic to verify whether this was the case. Thankfully this was not so, but they did equip me with a fancy brace for the sprain.

Now I know you're thinking "Why didn't you let go of the leash?" Or "You know Max pulls on the leash when he sees squirrels." To which I've replied to all, "It's called an accident for a reason." LOL. Anyway, it's back to off leash in the woods with that boy!

Needless to say, in this saga of man vs. squirrel, the squirrel won!