The Puppy Files: Autodefenestration

Welcome to yet another edition of The Puppy Files, a series in which I travel down memory lane to when I was an itty bitty little puppy with large gnashing teeth and a bad attitude.

Today's story is a very special one.  It is about an event that I have mentioned in passing multiple times, but never took a moment to fully describe.  Today's tale is about the day I jumped out the window of a moving vehicle.

It was the fall of 2011, and Pa and I were driving home after having picked up breakfast at a local bakery.  Pa was driving and I was riding shotgun (I had begged Pa to let me drive, but he said that I was still too little to drive...I was only two years old after all).  All the windows in the car were open, though mine was only open about half way (Pa and I both enjoy the rush of air in our hair/fur).

So there we were, cruising down the road at 30 miles per hour; just a dog and his Pa.  Pa looked over to me, saw that I was sitting quietly in my chair, staring out the front window, and turned his attention back to the road.  A second later he looked back toward me and saw two legs and a tail sailing out the window.

Alarmed by the turn of events (I had never shown any interest in jumping out of a window before), Pa slammed on the brakes and simultaneously grabbed hold of my leash.  Held aloft by my collar, I bounced a couple of times against the passenger side door panel of the braking (though still moving) vehicle before breaking loose and tumbling, end over end, down the street.

Now, it goes without saying that I was a bit stunned when I finally stopped rolling.  Dumbfounded, I looked around at my surroundings (some houses, a car passing by, the asphalt street, and Pa, running toward me) and decided that it was in my best interest to just stand perfectly still and wait for assistance.

Seconds later, Pa cautiously approached me.  "You okay, Buddy?" he asked.  I looked at him blankly, my ears squared.  "Squirt" he continued (Pa has many nicknames for me which, aside from Buddy and Squirt, also includes Sam), "you want to sit down for a little while?"  My ears dropped and I scurried over to Pa's side (he was relieved to discover that I was not limping and did not appear to be bleeding).  Our hearts still beating wildly from our adventure, Pa and I both sat down on the curb for a few minutes to catch our breaths.

I was lucky that day.  The only physical evidence of my near death experience was a small scuff on my back leg, the loss of all my whiskers on one side of my head (they got shaved off on the concrete), a shiny buffed spot on the passenger side door of the car where my butt rubbed off all the dust and dirt, and a couple additional gray hairs on Pa's head.  After a few months time, all signs were gone (well, except for the gray hairs).

But while (most of) the physical scars eventually went away, the damage was done.  It's been three years since that fateful day and Pa still won't let me ride in the car with the windows down (not even a crack) and my family feels the need to point out all the nice dogs riding in cars who don't feel the need to jump out the window.