A.: An apricot miniature poodle falling downstairs.
At 5:30am I was fixing my first cup of coffee. Angus had followed me downstairs and had gone outdoors. Max was lying abed . . . Sunday morning, after all. I heard his feet hit the floor when he jumped off the bed. I heard him ba-dump down the first stairstep. I heard him fumble on the second. The fumble continued to a sort of muffled wutta-wutta-wutta-wutta-wutta-wutta-wutta-wutta, all the way down the flight of fifteen steps.
I was relieved to see, when he came into view and skidded across the landing and smacked his face against the wall, that he was still upright.
He had skied all the way down!
He's fine.
Me, I'm still a little rattled.
