The other day, Murphy very uncharacteristically decided that he didn't like a handyman that I'd invited into the Lair to do some repair work. He was giving every indication that he was about to take a bite out of the guy despite my assurances that the guy was ok, so I grabbed him and tossed him into my office with Belle for company, closing the door as I did.
A few minutes later, as the handyman and I were standing outside on my driveway with my basement door open, I head the sound of paws on the stairs coming down fast. Realizing that Murphy had somehow gotten out of my office AND gotten the door at the top of the stairs open, I rushed to the basement door to intercept him as the handyman wisely scrambled for the safety of his truck. Murphy and I met in the doorway, both hitting that fatal funnel from opposite sides at full speed. I took eighty pounds of charging Shepherd square in the chest, and although I managed to grab him and hold on (and prevent a dog bite and probable lawsuit), he hit me in my lower ribs hard enough to knock the wind out of me and leave a bruise.
I've been cursing him quietly ever since, but now I consider myself lucky that I only have him to deal with. The 2016 award for worst dog ever goes to this Labrador Retriever in Minnesota who took an eighteen-wheeler for a ride.
Dog peers out of semi after smashing rig into tree, car
Note to self: On pending trip to Louisiana with the dogs, take the keys when you get out.