I've often heard the phrase 'I'd take a bullet for you' and thought... yea, right. I can't think of anyone I would take a bullet for. I must be s-e-l-f-i-s-h!
But then again, do we even realize what we would do until the time comes?
Would I risk my life to save my grandchildren
from a burning building?
I'm sure I would!
Would I push Gary out of the way so the oncoming train would crash into me instead?
There's a good chance.
Would I lunge toward my dog, forgetting about how old I am and how breaking just one bone in my body could lay me up for months, saving her from running out of the garage door as she follows me to the laundry room and I realize that Gary has the garage door opened?
Well, yes I would!
Maybe I'm not as selfish as I thought I was.
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| OUCH! BUT NO BROKEN BONES. |
Dear Diary,
I don't know what all the fuss was about. Firstly, I've always known that the nag Mom is crazy about me. She can't live without me and that's a fact. First thing in the morning... it's all about me. Second thing in the morning... me, me, me.. Third thing... well, you get the picture. She's always got my back. This brings me to the overprotective part. A dog needs some space, ya know. It is not necessary to drag me through the air by my harness (into the house) to save me from breaking my rope and charging at the annoying german shepherd walking its master down our sidewalk. It is overkill. I mean, really. She's so dramatic. AND the way she lunged at me a few weeks ago when I went to the laundry room to help her do the laundry... shielding me from 'escaping' out the garage door? There is that word escape.. huh... I must be in prison if I need to escape. Oh, and get this. Then she takes me back over to the laundry room (after the fact) to re-enact the whole darn thing so she can take pictures and blog about it. This is one wacko wooman if ya get my drift. Gracie.
