Getting old

Two nights ago I went out for a walk with both my humans. 

It was a particularly chilly night for Southern California. As we headed back home I could feel the wind ruffling up my coat and getting to my skin, which made me think of youthful nights back East when I would run around for hours in the snow with friends or lovers. 

So I started up a trot and to my surprise, nothing hurt. My humans saw me trotting and they too understood that I was having a moment, a shot of the old happiness before going to sleep. They ran up to me and past me and did those funny sounds that humans do for dogs. I love them. 

I worked up to a gallop, stopped, started again, the whole thing. It was glorious. And then it was time to go back in, so I ran up towards the main door and I guess I didn't see the curb, cause next thing you know, I land on my chin (hard) and I'm spread-eagled sliding through the lobby much to the surprise of the doorman who had actually held the door open for me. I slid in all the way to the elevators!

Kinda looked like this:   

It hurt. A little. What actually hurt the most was the laughter my humans (and the doorman) were trying to stifle. I suppose I looked funny sliding around like that but I was humiliated. I should have seen that curb and been able to clear it. After such a fun walk, it was difficult to accept that I hadn't seen it. 

Getting old is no joke.