I look up from reading Scott Kelby's Digital Photography book and look out the window to my left, just in time. Here comes my husband, sprinting faster than I have seen him move in years, hot on the trail of our escape artist dog, Dexter. (Sidenote: It is well known that our dog has a slight listening problem when he is being called.) Dexter panting to the lyrics "I want to break free. I want to break free." comes running from a few houses down.
I don't know whether to laugh or get out of the car and help him. Just then, as if a stunt double, Jesse leaps into the air. Diving with the greatest of ease. He looked so magnificent, so sure. Until he landed like a ton of bricks, face down, into the neighbor's yard. Dexter barely escaping his fingertips.
Laughter broke the silence in the van. As if he had landed on a bed of feathers, Jesse springs back up into action. Close on Dexter's heals, they both disappear around the corner of our house. Silence. Silence. Dexter's YELP for help filled the air. Jesse emerges with a smirk on his face. He won.
With Dexter tucked away in his kennel and the house door locked, Jesse approaches the van. On the way to my parents house, we recall the event. My laughter grew as Jesse told the story from his point of view. I thought that if I dove and took Dexter out like a lion takes out a gazelle, knocking his back feet out from under him, he would fall. I could then get on top of him. Who thinks like that? Is this Animal Planet? I know as humans we are animals, but I can't say that I have ever compared myself to a lion and thought of Dexter as a gazelle.
Jesse groans. Lifting up his shirt, Do I have something here on my side? Yeah a couple of bleeding scratches! We both giggled. Glancing down. Jesse concludes. I hope I didn't just ruin this pair of jeans.
Jesse? A lion? I'm not so convinced.
ReplyDeleteI get what you're trying to say, Abby: I would be more accurately described as a liger. I read you.
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