“Never stand in a bight” is old sailor’s wisdom.  It was drilled into me in my early days at the Naval Academy – never, ever, get your feet tangled into a loop of line on the deck.  You never know when a line might get pulled tight, and being strung by your ankle from the mast is dangerous; what’s worse, it looks bad. 

Really bad.

It’s easy when you are new to sailing to become boresighted on some task, or distracted by some new sight.  One of my fellow plebes had to be reminded of the corollary to the “no standing” rule.  He was so focused on trying to be useful that he was paying little attention to his surroundings.  “Hey - don’t put your head in a bight either” he had to be reminded.

Landlubbers typically pay little attention to a coil of rope lying about on the garage floor or tucked in the corner of the basement.  These are inanimate objects, but ropes on a ship are live snakes, lying in wait to bite the unsuspecting.  I know this.  I am particularly mindful of this when I am sailing.  I watch my feet and continually coil up loose lines and tuck them out-of-the-way whenever possible.

Like those landlubbers, though, I am not as attentive when I am safely ashore… which is why my neighbor found me yesterday lying flat on my back in the driveway; the wind completely knocked out of me.

It was my decision to unhook the 50 foot leash from the post on my deck to give the beast more room to run; still on a leash, but not quite tethered to my yard.

It was my decision to play a little catch, letting her race through my backyard and my neighbor’s driveway.

It was I who launched the tennis ball to the far corner.

And it was I who stepped into a coil in the 50 foot leash, and whose last conscious thought before hitting the pavement was “oops”

So… naturally… I am blaming the beast… She was, after all, found standing over the body…slobbering.