A New Injury for 2016, While Trying To Be a Good Dog Owner While BBQing Outside. Damn Leash.

In the mornings, when Glamis and I walk, we meet all the neighborhood dogs and it becomes routine with who is friendly and who we avoid. Because of the wonderful weather, I decided I would take Glamis for a second walk in the afternoon, and when we returned, I chose to BBQ meat from the freezer (thawed of course), while taking advantage of the wonderful spring-like day. I chose to have Glamis with me; after all, she loves this warmth as much as I do.

She was on her leash and I was the Grill Master.

That's when Jackson and his owner, Holly, walked by and wanted to play. Joyful with the air, I said, "Come on, Jackson. Glamis can play."

And the two played. And they chased each other. And they had a great time.

And Bryan flew through the air when Glamis went after Jackson at 100 mph, still on the leash, around my right leg, and outwards again. It was like a lasso that grabbed this bovine and tackled him to the arena in record time. I cleaned it up before it created a bruise that makes it look like I've tattooed my shin.

My bad. That's what happens when leashed dogs are allowed to be in a ballet of play that turns into the Super Bowl. I learned my lesson.

TGIF. A school, a meeting, and then Metro North to NYC for the #BeFree Writing Our Lives event at Leadership and Public Service High School in Manhattan on Saturday. Uniting CT and Syracuse voices, finally and at last.

And probably bringing peroxide.