Last night Paul had a play date with the cutest Australian Shepherd in Dallas, Riley Panda Smith. On my way out the door I was holding the little guy, my purse, and two items of clothing that needed to be returned to Strueber. I made it halfway down the first flight of steps. Then, I tripped over a combination of my pants and my flip flop and went flying down the second half. I was so scared I was going to kill my dog, yes you have to worry about that when your pet only weighs 5.8 lbs. So, I threw my arms out in front of me like superman, holding Paul by his tiny little waist, and tried my hardest to break my fall, and prevent Paul's impending doom, by bringing my knees down to the floor. Well, since we all know how coordinated I am, this didn't exactly make for a graceful save. Instead, I landed right on my shin on the corner of the fourthish step from the landing and slid down the rest. I think Paul was crying by the time I landed...actual tears. I have a really nice bruise and rug burn now. But, I don't have a dead dog. So, I think it was a success.
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