After I turned onto Dad's street, my dog jumped out of the driver's side window. I guess he recognized the street and got too excited.
He didn't fall. He leaped. And he's too small a Yorkie to have made it without getting hurt dreadfully.
Problem was, he was on his leash and that would have caused him to tangle under the wheel and be run over.
I know it all happened in a fraction of a second, but on his way to the pavement, time slowed down eerily. Long enough for me to consider and decide if or how I should grab him. The car was still moving and I almost panicked. I was afraid to stomp the brake because I thought I might yet run over him.
Maybe that's why I'm still shaking like a leaf in a storm.
I almost lost my little boy tonight. Yes, he means that much to me.
I somehow whipped my left arm out of the driver's side window and caught him by a handful of hair on a back leg as he was dropping. He yelped but I hauled him back in.
I sat in the driveway hugging him and crying for a few minutes before I took him into Dad's house.
The little rascal seemed like wasn't even phazed by his near-death experience. I think it took ten years off of my own life, however.