Fall classic

I’m a man of many flaws. Too many to count.

There are some things that I just can’t manage to control. Like the laugh that brews deep within me when I witness the misfortune or incredible stupidity of my human brethren.

I can’t help it. It’s hereditary. I get it from my mother.

Show me someone taking an inadvertent shot to the groin or slipping on ice and I laugh uproariously. There’s no stopping it. At least not once I realize the person will survive the pratfall intact.

That explains why America’s Funniest Home Videos ranks among the very few media offerings that can make me laugh aloud. Even when I’m viewing it alone.

Besides being embarrassing, it’s kind of sick, I know. But it all works out because, I’m learning, I can also laugh at myself when I’m my own worst enemy, when I’m the victim of my own stupidity or circumstance.

Like Monday night.

So my mother, Greatest Girlfriend Ever, my dogs and I celebrated a belated Christmas at the house of GGE on Monday night. After dinner, I noted that my dogs appeared in dire need of a trip outside.

Trip outside. I had no idea how literally they wanted to take those two words.

I dutifully put on my hiking boots, grabbed the dogs’ leashes and led them out into the darkness. I marched them – OK, they pulled me – to their usual spot alongside the garage.

As Buster and Champ went about their business, I took in the beauty of a rather balmy December night in Minnesota. The temps had been in the mid-30s so often lately that much of the snow that previously covered the land had melted. I stood in only about three inches of snow and admired the foggy conditions that cloaked the yard.

How could I not drift away mentally under the circumstances? The conditions intrigued me. Leading the dogs out on their leashes – something I don’t have to do at home, thanks to a fenced-in yard -- has become routine as GGE’s yard isn’t fenced. There was nothing to encourage me to keep up my guard.

So I didn’t.

I was standing on a slight slope facing the garage as Champ moved behind me and to my right in an attempt to find a suitable place to make his, um, deposit. Buster, meanwhile, was behind me and to my left, sniffing around. Neither of them pulled his leash taut.

Until the next-door neighbor let his dog out onto his front step.

That moment -- that very instant -- was surreal. I heard the neighbor open his door and I casually turned behind me to see the cause of the noise. Both of my dogs plucked their noses out of the wet snow and quickly craned them in the direction of the noise. They did this far less casually.

Time stood still. Maybe a couple of seconds actually passed, but it felt like I was about to embark on a cartoon-like adventure. Like that moment when Wile E. Coyote flies off a cliff in pursuit of Roadrunner and remains suspended in air momentarily until he realizes gravity is about to kick in.

Gravity kicked in, too. Gravity kick-started by 150 pounds of furry fury suddenly straining to leap to, um, greet the neighbor’s dog. The leashes were slack no more.

Unfortunately, I didn’t release my grip on the leashes. I didn’t have time to. My arms were immediately thrown behind me, almost rag-doll style, as my dogs pulled mightily. I hung on.

My feet didn’t. They slipped out from underneath me.

I did a faceplant into the snow. Apparently 150 pounds of inattentive man is no match for 150 pounds of extremely determined dogs.

I’m not sure which hit first – my face or my chest. It didn’t matter. Both hit equally hard. The snow, what was left of it, provided some cushion – not as much as it might have a couple of days earlier, however – but it was more abrasive than I could’ve ever imaged.

My dogs weren’t content to merely leave me there, lying face-down on the snow-covered slope. Nope, not my overachieving beasts. They insisted on dragging me down the slope – still face-down and feet-first – into the neighbor’s yard. No less than 10 feet.

It didn’t take the neighbor long to take note of my dogs. He hurriedly grabbed his dog and dragged him inside. I’m not sure if he saw what happened to me. I hope not.

Even if he didn’t, my body’s misadventure left perfectly preserved tracks in the snow – much like a chalk-outline of a homicide victim, only in snow – to mark my leash-guided voyage.

I got up quickly and ran the dogs back into the house. Champ never had the opportunity to complete his original mission. I didn’t particularly care. I was shaken. It felt like I had been punched in the chest. I felt an abrasion under my right eye. My left wrist was stiff and the knuckles on my left hand were bleeding.

Buster stood behind me, hunched forward in concern as I assessed the damage. Champ stared at me, wagging his tail in a Wasn't-that-fun? sort of way.

My mother and GGE didn’t initially notice anything amiss upon my return to the house. It didn’t take long, though, before they noticed the snow in my hair and on my sweatshirt.

I told my story. GGE appeared concerned. My mother laughed. I expected as much from her. I wasn’t physically harmed in any serious way and it’s her nature to laugh when her mind paints a picture as amusing as my story.

It’s my nature, too. I laughed more heartily. I wished I could’ve witnessed the episode. Even more, I wished had video of the incident. I could replay it endlessly whenever I might take myself too seriously.