I am a Super Hero

Today, I saved a life. A real, actual life.

Okay, fine. The life that I "saved" may never have been in imminent danger and, yes, fine, this life belongs to a dog. But that's "belongs" in the present tense, thank you! And it's a very cute and sweet 1 year old dog with a long life ahead of it!

I was home today studying when my next door neighbor (yes, Old Cat's part-time owner. Oh, Irony, you're so clever.) came over and frantically banged on my door. Our across-the-street neighbor's two dogs had escaped and were freely running back and forth between our houses and their yard. If we lived in a nice quiet neighborhood, this might not be the end of the world. But we live on a FIVE LANE THOROUGHFARE where cars absolutely fly and, by the way, it's pouring down rain. Add to the mix that each dog weighs approximately 80 pounds, which means that one dog weighs more than my and Neighbor Guy's three dogs put together. Looking good.

Neighbor Guy and I manage to pen the two dogs on my deck until we can assess the situation. I dole out the bones while he looks at their fence and bangs on their door. No one is home, but he's found the escape hatch and can fix it. So we take the dogs, one at a time, back to their yard and put them safely inside. We breathe a sigh of relief, give each other a high five, and then scream like little girls when the feistier of the two finds Door #2 and darts out into the street.

And is hit by a car.

She is hit in the head first, then pivoted around so her hip hit and shattered the hubcap. She stands up, wobbles a bit, and takes off running. Neighbor Guy stays to talk to the driver and I go running after the pup. Luckily, she doesn't go too far and hides under a bush in her neighbor's yard. I am trying to stay smart about this and not just run up to her and cry, because I know that dogs in shock (especially if they've had a head injury) will act weird and can be aggressive. So I creep up and be all sweet to her and she does well. I decide to take her to the vet, even though she's not bleeding or acting too strange, and she's only limping a little, but I would never be able to sleep again if I didn't make sure she was okay.

So I scribble a note for the owners, hoping that they don't sue me for abducting their dog,
and we're off to the vet. Turns out she's totally fine. She'll probably be a little sore for a few days, but no real damage. That dog is a TANK. The owners call while I'm at the vet and are soon there, crying and hugging their dog. Looks like I won't be sued after all. Instead, I think I'll be awarded THE KEY TO THE CITY.

All in all, I am actually really proud of the way I handled myself in this situation. A year ago, I would have been reduced to sobs and not been capable of making decisions. But I felt an odd calm throughout the whole thing, a sense that, if I could just keep my head on and think, it would all be okay. This is one of those stories that I will tell when I am 300 years old and say, "I knew then that I could handle anything that came my way. That was an important lesson for me, one that I cling to even to this day!" And my great-great-grandchildren will moan that they've heard this one a hundred times and that the old lady's gone batty.

I probably won't tell them that I came straight home and blogged about it, though. That does sort of lower the SuperHero Factor just a little bit.