At one point yesterday I was standing in the supermarket at the deli counter and I am sure I looked like an insane turkey craving zombie. They should have called the cops.
We had been watching the puppy like hawks trying to kick in the house breaking process, picking him up when he was caught in the act and taking him outside immediately for conditioning. And the sliding glass door to the patio was open in varying degrees all afternoon, as it was fairly warm and we wanted him to get used to going outside when nature called.
Cut to about six pm... and the slight case of sleep deprivation over the past 48 hours had grown to cause a serious sense of disorientation.
I hadn't eaten much all day... or for the past few days at all, so the glass of white wine on an empty stomach was heading straight for my head. I am looking down at Luigi, who starts to squat... and then, quick pick up... low... moving toward the doorway quickly... fast... and then, thwack. Crack. I had walked through the screen door.
This morning the puppy still was a little nervous when the possibility of going out on the patio with me reoccurred. And his ears are now fully up like two little radar dishes. But the left side of my face still feels as if I had moved a Volkswagen ten feet with a sieve tied to my nose.
When this was recounted to my mother on the phone this morning, she called me a 'big galoot'. Diss!
I am just glad there isn't any freaking video.