Luck be a Boxer

I like to call my parents from the dog park on weekend mornings. It's a good opportunity for us to talk without interruptions. This morning I was talking with them while watching several dogs run around having the time of ther lives. I noticed one such dog, a Boxer, was a little wild, and commented that he better watch where he's going or he'll knock someone on their ass. Little did I know, only five minutes later, that someone would be me.

I had my back turned to the heart of the park, and didn't see or hear the Boxer and a Chocolate Lab running full-speed at me. With only a split-second notice--not even time enough to turn my head all the way around--the dogs clipped my legs completely out from under me and all 200 pounds of my 6'2" frame hit the ground with a thud that sent the whole park running over to help me. Thankfully, my cat-like reflexes fat ass saved me from any injury. In fact, I didn't even drop the phone! Woo Hoo. That Boxer was lucky it was me and not one of the 60-year old ladies at the park because it surely would have been messy.

So on the way home, I'm thinking to myself that I was pretty lucky not to get hurt. I really hit the ground hard. Windows down, music blaring, I was feeling pretty good, and chuckled to myself at what a switch that was since the Gods of Luck normally frown upon me. Then suddenly, a message from above reminded me not to count myself among the blessed...