Aki and I were at the lake just off Exit 283 of I-75. A pathway at the lakeside park is an old railbed from the Chattanooga-to-Atlanta rail line that had been the site of some long-ago Civil War action.
We were walking along the pathway that had been cut from the hills. Larsen was at 20 feet above us, on top of the cut, exploring. A jogger and dog came along and we chatted. Larsen decided to join, and unhappily also decided to to take a short-cut that involved a headlong plunge over the side.
Larsen hit the ground and flipped. I scooped him up on the flip and grabbed him to me. Miraculously, he was uninjured. He didn't vocalize a sound when he hit. He seemed unfazed and did not make any yips or cries when I poked and prodded his gut, ribs, and joints.
I can only think that he hit and skidded on the leaves and debris that had piled up at an angle in the berm at the bottom of the cliff. This angled berm produced a sliding glancing landing, rather than the brutal impact that would have occurred with perpendicular ground. Either that or someone was looking out for the little dog.
Larsen invents a new way to give Frank a heart attack.
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