Jane hit the dirt yesterday. Whump. All because of a dog. Surprisingly, it hurt much worse than the last time I got tossed. Tamara at Barb Wire recently had a horrible scary fall caused by a dog with an irresponsible owner. (Hers was much worse and definitely NOT funny). If you read across horse blogs, you see a pattern that some of the worst trail/hacking falls are caused by dogs.
This is one reason why, when I take Christmas to the barn, I wear him out physically before we go, and he gets set up in his doggy playpen. I don’t want him to get hurt, but I also don’t want him to suddenly take out after the six year old whose horse just spooked. A bolting horse would be a predator magnet for even his little dog brain.
I had my dog-caused fall in breeches, tall boots and riding gear. But no helmet. JANE wasn’t wearing a helmet?!? I knew she was a hypocrite. Thank god she had no head trauma. Why was Jane not wearing her helmet? Oh she is so going to pay for her smug, self-satisfied lecture on helmets now.
(The problem with writing about yourself in the third person: you can get carried away and say mean things before you realize you’re, uh, saying mean things to yourself.)
I am constitutionally incapable of doing anything normally. I was not wearing a helmet because my dog-caused hit-the-dirt fall didn’t include a horse. Anywhere.
I took Christmas to the city dog park to run off his marathonic, non-Lhasa, more-like-fox-terrier energy with critters roughly his own size, before we went to the barn.
I totally did not see it coming. If I had seen the two pitbulls come in, we would have left. Big dogs are one thing. Tank dogs are another. A sweet, friendly, tank mowing you down is still a tank mowing you down.
I turned to see who Christmas was racing to greet now, (oh no, pitbulls!) and one of them chased after Christmas playfully. But a tank is a tank. Christmas realized he was in over his head, made a beeline towards mom, and stopped behind her, still wagging his tail.
Slam went the 80 lb pitbull sideways into my bad leg, at what felt like 40 mph. A loud crack was heard, and I hit the dirt BIG time. I couldn’t believe how much it felt like getting dumped by a horse. I kept looking for proof: riding clothes…check. Boots…check. Shirt and zip vest….check. Pain…double check. Horse….? There must be one here somewhere. How can you have a riding fall without the horse?
I have to say, tall boots do cross over well into off-label dog park use. When Charlie-the-pitbull broadsided me, he snapped defensively at my leg, believeing that I had slammed into HIM. I love my tall boots. No broken skin. And Mountain Horse tall boots? Not a scratch. These boots are TOUGH. I could wade through a sea of pitbulls in them and feel safe.
The pit’s owner said, as he trotted by after his dogs (while I was still laying in the dirt), “Hey…my dog likes you!”