[Spoiler Alert: Ozzy is alive.]
I think my "real age" increased by about a decade yesterday. I'm definitely mid-40s now.
Let me tell you why:
Paigey and Camry were riding bikes outside when the phone rang. I went inside and answered the phone. Wanting to be where the girls were, I went back outside to talk on the phone and watch the girls. As I stepped outside, Ozzy (our dog/son), raced out the door barking toward the UPS man/truck RACING down our street.
Those of you that remember when we first got Ozzy from the shelter, know--he has a thing for men in brown or black pants. Specifically, missionaries, postal carriers, plummers, etc. He can't stand 'em. He's like a grandpa when it comes to our kids, other children, cats, ferrets, etc., but when he sees a man in uniform he FLIPS his LID. (We think he must have had a rough puppyhood where uniforms are concerned. He probably flunked out of the K-9 Police Academy.)
At any rate, the UPS man was seriously driving about 35-40 miles an hour down the street. And despite all of my screaming, Ozzy ran directly for the truck without care or concern.
The last moment I was able to watch--because I knew how this was going to end--was Ozzy directly under the UPS truck. Directly under the UPS truck! As in, the back double-wide tires were directly aligned with his body.
I screamed the way I imagine people scream when they witness a horrible accident. That scream was filled with grief. I just couldn't believe this was how it was going to end--Ozzy under the UPS truck with all of us watching.
It was more than I could take. So, I turned my head and screamed and screamed (granted, this is all happening in a nano-second).
I expected to hear Ozzy wail and the UPS truck stop. But I heard neither.
Instead, I saw the UPS truck stop two homes down and briefly honk (as in, "package on the doorstep").
And then Ozzy came running to Camry on the curb.
I have no idea, and I mean NO IDEA, how he made it out from under that truck. I can only guess that he stayed exactly where he was and the truck just stradled his little body--tires missing him.
I like to think that I really do appreciate life. That I am grateful. That I recognize how fragile life is. But truly, in the moment when I thought Ozzy was going to die, I felt those things more deeply than I ever have. Ozzy has been a real companion and friend to our family. He loves us all, but has specifically attached himself to Camry--in a Winn-Dixie kind of way. He really is the kind of dog you write books about.
That experience left me thinking all day long: are we good stewards over the "things" in our lives? Are we doing everything we can to watch over them, care for them?
You see, we've lived in our home for over a year now, and we've yet to complete the fence in our backyard (or the sprinklers, or the grass, or the water feature, etc. LOL!). So, our pets have grown accustomed to the "range" that is Daybreak.
Thankfully, I'm married to the Dave-man because when he came home from work, I was still looking for an oxygen tank to calm myself down. But, Dave heard me. He believed me when I said, "I really thought Ozzy was going to die today." He didn't just brush it off and say, "Oh, that's nice June, where's the Beaver and Wally?"
No, he said, "I'll get it figured out--tonight."
And then he and Jonah went to Home Depot and bought some temporary fencing--the kind you see at a cattle ranch (minus the barbs)--and created an enclosed "backyard" for Ozzy and Toby. (And he promised to finish the "real" fence as soon as possible.)
Ozzy and Toby are in heaven in their new safe backyard (heaven as a metaphor and NOT reality, thankfully).
What a day! (Thank you Dave and Jonah.)
Note: The only thing more incredible than Dave and Jonah doing that, is that our neighbor, Rick, heard the banging on the stakes and came over to help. When I saw him out there I said, "What are you doing?" To which Rick replied, "I heard some banging and came out to help." Who does that? Who comes outside at 9pm to help a neighbor without being asked? (I'm dying even as I write this today.)
