A Dog’s Tongue

Some days are just days you have to pick yourself back up.
On one particular day, I fell down.
Five times in fact.
Three times riding a bike – a pink bicycle with a pink basket.
And twice later, walking a dog (a big dog – a Great Dane, whose name I thought was Lenny until a couple days later, found out his name was Winston).
As a result, both my knees, both my elbows and my chin have scars to prove it. And a couple of them hurt.

Since then, my dog comes up to me quite often, but not necessarily for affection (he’s taking a break), but instead to come lick my wounds.

Dogs know when you’re not at 100%.
And they’ll do whatever it takes to get you back there.

As always, dogs are better than we are.
As always, I try aspire to be the man my dog wants me to be.

And upon Taylor’s suggestion, I now have a Batman bandage on my tender elbow.

Go Adventure. Go Travel. Go Live.

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3 thoughts on “A Dog’s Tongue

  1. If memory serves it was 3x on the pink basket bike, one time on the Orange bike in the driveway and once with the great Dane. No matter, it was comical to be witness to. And good for Taylor for licking your wounds but he was really just trying to heal your damaged ego and the knowledge that you can’t ride a bike. Hahaha.


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