I have had a lot of questions about what actually happened to my demolished phone, so I thought I would share the story with you. I think the tragedy of the whole ordeal has worn off, and I am finally ready to talk about it.
So, last week, three hours after waking up from my dream, as you may recall, I decided to take my Brontie for a walk on a trail up the street.
Now, you must know that Brontie is the biggest, wimpiest dog you have ever met. He could just as easily step into my car as he could step up onto a curb. But, no. The mere sight of me opening the car door is enough to send him into a whimpering flurry of panic. He starts jerking back on the leash, refusing to budge, whining and crying the whole time, until all 70 pounds of him is lifted into the car (by me), and he can relax...that is until we get to our location and have to go through the whole ordeal again to try to get him to step out of the car.
So, knowing this is the case, and knowing that I would need two hands to get my fluff ball into the car, I absent-mindedly set my phone on top of my car while I fought to get him inside. And then? Yep....I forgot about it.
And of course it did not fall off in my neighborhood. It decided to wait a good ten minutes, until we were well on our way down the main street. I heard the sliding, and looked in my rear view mirror just in time to see it hit the pavement, separate from it's case, and go bouncing down the street. I was about to pull over right then and there to jump out and get it, but as soon as that thought crossed my mind, about fifteen cars crossed the intersection and headed straight towards my phone.
By the time I found it, after running up and down the sidewalk, and then the center divider, and then the sidewalk again, I would estimate that it was run-over at least twenty times, probably more. (When I estimated 100 times, Nick thought that was a ridiculous estimate. I still believe that it is more accurate though. I was running up and down that street for a long time before I found it.)
So, that's the story.
And, speaking of walking dogs, my two dogs walk at EXTREMEly different paces. One of them is 16, and the other one is one, so go figure. They each get walked separately most of the time, as seen in the above story, and our little family of four never really gets to walk all together. However, I came up with the perfect solution to our little dilemma the other night.
I pulled Belle in a wagon so we could keep up with Brontie. Once we got to the park, she got to get out and explore to her heart's delight.
The only problem with this is that Nick refuses to walk with me when I am pulling the wagon.