poor little jack jacks

Yep. My sister named her dog Jack. Jack Jacks. The little mutt just can't catch a break. 
Last week he got hit by a car. AND SURVIVED. And the guy is like barely a foot tall, so we still don't quite know how he managed to pull himself out of that one. But it makes for a good story nonetheless. Not to mention I'm totally the hero of this one. 

I had just woken up and sat down at our kitchen table with my mom, when we hear Jack screeching and whimpering at the top of his little Jack Russell/Chihuahua mix lungs. We look out the window just in time to see a silver SUV (WHO DIDN'T STOP!) continue on up our neighborhood street...while Jack rolls out from underneath it—battered, bleeding, and somehow scampering up our driveway. The entire time—all of three seconds so far—my mom is starting to cry and screaming, "Is he dead? Is he dead?!?!" And then proceeds to run into the other room, leaving me to greet the almost-roadkill at the door. 

Backstory: Besides my dad, whom Jack still growls at, I'm probably the next person who likes and enjoys Jack the least. But man, do I pull through in emergency situations. 

So there I am in the entry way of our house, holding a bleeding and—how do I say this, defecating?—dog who is going into shock in my arms and shaking profusely. My mother is screaming about how she can't look, and therefore, can't drive him to the vet. "Mom, I can't hold a falling apart dog AND drive a car at the same time. Pick one."

Needless to say she drove. And I held the bleeding animal. 

Details that will become important later in the story: I had just woken up when all this happened. I had mascara under my eyes, wasn't wearing a bra with my oh-so-hot gray thermal shirt and sweatpants that now had huge wet stains over the crotch because of the wash cloth I was holding to wipe the blood off Jack. Oh, and that blood was also all over my shirt, pants and body, along with whatever else was coming out of or off Jack's body. Picture of morning beauty!

I didn't think twice about any of this though because, after all, JACK JUST GOT HIT BY A CAR, and when it comes to pets, obviously I love Jack the most (see photo below).

So I hand off Jack to the vet the minute we step inside the animal hospital, sit down in the waiting room, and look down at my self in slight disgust. And in walks a guy I graduated with in college. Insert all those luscious details about my ghastly appearance here. 

"Oh, you manage this vet hospital? Of course you do. Of course."

Moral of story: Jack had a round of x-rays and some pain meds prescribed to him, but he is oh-so-fine now with no broken bones and only minor abrasions. WONDER DOG! Back to sleeping with the cat. Who is bigger than him. What a guy.