I was standing in the grass and then I wasn't.

Where I'd been looking at the frisbee I threw for Ava, I was now looking at a smattering of clouds in the sky. From the ground. On my back.

Here's what I know:

It's late afternoon. Actually... maybe it's early evening?
Whatever.
I'm outside with Ava.
I tossed a frisbee for her.
She took out my legs while chasing it.

Here's what I don't know:

How did I wind up on the ground?
Was that my knee that she bumped into?
Who the hell made that "whoahrghh!" sound?

For a minute, I'm just lying on my back like a turtle. I can hear those plodding hoofbeats Ava makes when she runs. She's so frickin fast. Ok—after taking a second to get my bearings, I roll myself forward. Climbing to my feet, I'm starting to feel like I'm caught up again.

Ava's running toward me with the red rubber frisbee flopping in front of her teeth with every gallop. I shift my weight back and forth between both legs to see if anything feels funky. Other than a little soreness in my left calf, I'm thinking I'm all good?

"UMM, excuse me? What was that?"

She finishes trotting toward me and lays down. Pawing at the frisbee while chewing it, she seems completely uninterested in whatever it is I'm talking about. Maybe that's what I get for fake-throwing the frisbee in one direction before whipping it completely the other way.

And here I thought I was making things interesting.

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Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
363/365

When's the last time some intentional misdirection came back to bite you?

onward. 

For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.