Still cold out. Ma Nature tried to snow several times today, but not enough to make an elk flight worth the money.

Hustled the heelers on the post office walk, to the point that it was almost a run. Which was a mistake, since that meant they were hypered up when we got back.

Normal routine when we get home is uncollar the mother (she has gone around naked her entire life, except when off our property, and stares at you if you ever try to leave her collar on in the house), then unleash whichever sister has behaved herself the most on the walk.

This freed heeler then stands ahead a few meters, yipping excitedly the entire time, while the second sister is unclipped.

Then they make a mad, full speed dash from the street corner around the corner of the house and to the garage at the end of the driveway. I'm sure they would say they are attacking any stray cat that may be snooping by the old Christmas trees, but in reality it is just a race.

They then turn back, after a brief bark at the neighbor dog watching from her gate, and charge at me.

The masked heeler is always in the lead.

Their intent is to grab and tug on their mother's leash (the one with knots in it so it won't slide and burn through their teeth). Which means I have only 10-15 seconds to grab ahold of the metal clip end of that leash (so they won't bean themselves with it when they start tugging) and wrap it around my palm (so they won't rip it out of my hand).

The masked heeler is nearly always the first to get back to me. (She is not that much faster... she just cheats and turns around sooner). Prior to being run over, I would normally swing the leash high to make her jump to grab it. With her fangs often near shoulder or face level.

Since she has recovered, I have just been letting the leash hang loose, and swung it a little like a matador. And we have been having good tugs. (Her sister always gets the handle, instead of a knot, and we have a three-way (oooh, imagine the google hits for a "three-way" with "sisters") tug.)

But today I got them hypered up on the walk. And when the masked heeler hit and grabbed the leash, she forgot to stop running.

When the leash had stretched as far as my arm would allow (I cannot let go, remember. It's wrapped around my hand.), she did a complete flip in the air.

And landed on her once-broken hip, on the concrete sidewalk.

She was stunned enough to let go, and her ears went down at my cries of alarm. And her sacred butt got thoroughly inspected before heading inside, and again in the house.

As with the drive home that day, she was more worried about my reactions than what had happened to her.

Looks like she's fine.