I turn my head to see Blue rebound from the sliding glass door, her head having made direct contact. Her legs struggle to keep up with her body as she leans to the left, ultimately, her top heavy form going down.
"Blue, are you okay?" I gawk.
Sprite giggles, watching Blue trip over her now foreign limbs to stand back up. "Blue, you silly goose!"
The beagle rights herself and looks up at Sprite, like her last trick would surely earn her a treat.
Sprite turns to walk into the house.
A laugh escapes before I realize she's holding her head and silent, the storm gathering thunder.
She twirls around, tears spilling over her lashes. "I got a booboo!"
Here comes the rain.
I gather her close for the required assurances, perplexed at how both she and Blue took the same header into the same spot.
Later, John comes home to Sprite asleep, Blue snoring under our bed, and me playing with the blog. "Hey, I'm home."
"Guess what happened."
"Did you see what I did?"
"I Windexed the back doors."
They say cleanliness is next to Godliness, but washing windows will leave you seeing stars.