Don't try this at home

How many of you have seen that guy the Dog Whisperer rollerblading with his dogs on TV? How many of you have heard the disclaimer at the beginning of the show that says not to attempt any of his techniques without consulting a professional? It appears that Mom missed that little snippet of advice.

Caution: Reader Discretion is Advised
The following blog post contains graphic descriptions of physical injuries, including dangerous situations, blood, and gore, that may be unsuitable for some readers.

It was your average Saturday afternoon, I'd spent the morning napping, doing some doga on the balcony, chasing the swiffer, nothing out of the ordinary. Mom and Mama went out to run some errands, and then came back for my mid-day walk. While I was stretching and getting ready, I saw Mom putting on a bunch of funny pads and a helmet--she looked like a gladiator (the American variety, not the Roman), but I was polite and didn't say anything, because I didn't want to hurt her feelings. She isn't the most graceful, and I thought maybe she finally wised up and wanted to protect herself while doing dangerous activities like walking. Anyhow, she put on a backpack, and we headed to the park.

When we got to the path, Mom sat down on a big rock, and started taking her shoes off. I got really excited because I thought maybe I'd get to snag one to carry around and snack on during the walk, but she put them back in the backpack. Then she pulled out a pair of rollerblades from the backpack--I have NO idea where these things came from, but they didn't look like the kind you usually see on blonde, buxom Californians with exposed midriffs in movies from the 90's. No, they were more like hockey skates, and they looked a little chewed up, like that one sandal I got my teeth on a while ago. The one thing I noticed was that, unlike the native to the California beaches, these skates had no brakes. I didn't think much of it, because I was SO excited that Mom would finally be able to walk as fast as I like to walk in the park, which is somewhere between greyhound and cheetah.

So, Mom laced up the skates, grabbed ahold of my leash, stood up, and immediately fell down. I was momentarily disappointed, but before I could figure out what to do next, she was up again, and rolling down the path. I trotted along beside Mom, wondering why we hadn't done this months ago, when I sensed danger. We were going pretty fast, and up ahead was a little bridge over the creek that runs through the park. The path curved pretty sharply on the other side of the bridge, and according to my keen sense of balance and mathematical calculations, I didn't think we'd be able to navigate the turn at such a high speed.

I tried to slow Mom down by dragging my paws and stopping to sniff the grass, but it didn't do any good, she just pulled me along behind her like a rodeo bull dragging a cowboy. That's when I knew we were going down. Sure enough, as we started down the bridge, Mom's feet, skates and all, started flailing wildly, and the next thing I knew, she was on the ground. I ran up to her and assessed the situation. Her breathing was ragged, and there was some blood, but she had a strong pulse, and her pupils weren't dilated. I jumped up and barked for help, but I was still tethered to the leash, so I couldn't run home to Mama. Luckily, Mom had her phone, so we called the house, and Mama came down with the car, and we loaded the injured party into the triage area. After some initial bandaging, we were able to drive home, and get the patient more comfortable.

Mom was fine, aside from some pretty nasty bruises, and she says she's going to practice on her own so that we can try again soon. I'm not holding my breath.