Ice cubes have been my constant companions for three days.
It's an involved story starting with me out chopping fresh grass for the rabbits and a dog that won't come when called.
I let Bear loose as usual when we're outside.
The porch kittens had finished eating breakfast and went down to the ground to play in the jungle. Bear proceded to chase them up a tree for their first time. I yelled. Bear ignored me. 'Boat, the Momma Kat, rushed to their rescue. I'm still shouting, and throwing down my Ko Gama, I go for the dog, now under the porch being whupped on by 'Boat.
The two explode out from under the porch and shoot across the ramp. Yelling more, I turn and my foot slips into one of the holes Bear has dug when he's bored. Of course I end up on the ground, no longer yelling because the air's been knocked out of me.
Ok, on the ground isn't my favorite place; it's hard to get up on my feet. Stupid dog comes to see what I'm doing on the ground. I seize his collar and give him a good shake. Deciding I wasn't hurt enough to cry, I pick up on the yelling where I left off.
Art found me, head resting on the steps, dog by the collar, feet in the hole, fuming. I can't bear to be helped to my feet, so I have to do it myself. It wasn't pretty, but I did it.
Three days of ice on my knee and I'm up and at it again. Still some pain when bending the knee, but happy to be up. I found my exercise bands and am working on building upper body strength. This is the second time I've found myself on the ground since spring. I don't like it, but I must be really relaxed (or incredulous) when I hit the ground. Fortunately, I don't get hurt much. Getting up needs to be easier -- I need to be stronger. Or maybe I shouldn't have put the crutches down to chase the dog.
Stupid dog! When we go to town next, he's getting a training collar. Momma needs to teach Bear to come when called -- especially when he's in trouble. As for Momma, where can I get an old fashioned ice bag?