I Convince Myself I Almost Died, Again, This Time From the End (Blog 6, 6/14)

I’m there, teetering on the edge; a light breeze, a falling leaf, and I’ll drop to the raging (okay, not raging) river (okay, maybe a stream) and be dashed on the massive row of boulders (okay, maybe loose formation of small rocks) a hundred feet (okay, maybe only fifteen or twenty feet) below. It’s hard to believe my own stupidity had driven me to this point, but in the fuzzy remembrances associated with imminent demise I seem to recall this all somehow being my fault. I remember biking for the park with my sister. There was a house along the way, I remember that too. And a dog. Yes, a dog! A vicious dog with monstrous teeth. I can see him now, up on his hind legs, before me, as if watching with bated breath to see if I would fall. The bastard! This was all his fault. He went after my sister. Yes, that sounds familiar. He ran at her and she freaked out. And then I decided to be brave, and I barked to catch his attention. Really stupid thing, in hindsight. He just ran at me. And then I biked. But he was fast. He was gaining on me. So I got off my bike and ran for the bridge over the water running through the park. I … It’s blurry. My balance is failing. He lunged at me, but missed. I dodged him, like a football player avoiding a tackle. He lunged again, and he missed again. I kicked him in the head getting out of the way. And then I saw the brick divider. The divider I’m on. I jumped onto it. A great jump. Maybe eight or ten feet (possibly three or four). The brick divider with the stones mortared unevenly together; with moss and cracks and all sorts of deadly things meant to disrupt balance. I thought I was safe, but I wasn’t. The dog, the bastard, he tried to jump after me. He only got his forepaws up. But I thought he was going to make it. I thought he would tackle me. And I stumbled. I reeled. I’m still reeling. I’m about to fall.

But I don’t. I regain my balance and kick the dog in the nose and he runs away (maybe I just wait five minutes for him to wander off).

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