Beware of little dogs

So, yesterday, I was out walking two of my regular charges, Bella (aka Bella Z. Bub, aka Bella Boo, aka Queen B) and Shelby (aka Shelby Tiberius Buttlicker, aka Shelby Baloo, aka Thelonious Bucket). Here's a picture of the two:



I walk them three times a week (Monday, Wednesday, and Friday), and over time we've developed a routine: I get them as wound up as I possibly can before we leave the house (not that hard), and then we race uphill for two blocks on our way to Corona Heights, where I let them off their leashes and we poke around on the trails and in the long grass and wildflowers.

Like so:


Anyway, when we left the house yesterday, Shelby started running for the hills, as is our custom, but Bella, for some reason, decided to do a funny little back and forth jig. Which sent me tumbling, yellow boots over ears, onto the pavement.

And here's my poor finger (I've included the other hand so you can compare the negligible bruise with my normal fingers). I've also got a goose egg on my knee.




Bella escaped unscathed.