"A Swan Dive into the Asphalt"

I know what you're thinking, "That's a strange title for a blog post" - and yes, it is, but allow me to explain. It's a line from the song "Swan Dive" by Hed (PE) and it seems relevant to the -somewhat strange- ending of this post. Bear with me, it'll get better. A bit. Maybe.

Anyway, on the Sunday just gone, my wife, my daughter Gabi and myself had decided to head all the way down to sunny Stirling to check out what is shortly to be her hometown for the next four years or so whilst she's at University (college to you guys across the Atlantic), so we packed up the car and dropped the dog off at my other daughters' on the way. More about the dog later.
So, after what seemed about 58 hours we arrived in Stirling and it's actually really nice. It's the usual mix of traditional stone built houses and modern glass and steel edifices, but with thankfully not too much of the modern that it dominates. All in all, it's a thoroughly pleasant little city. Mid afternoon arrived and we decided to head home and collect Chi from my daughters'. so far, so good. My plan was to stay in the car whilst my wife went up to get Chi, but apparently, both Chi and her mum were so desperate to see me -hey, I'm very popular with Staffys- that they both bolted out of the door. Still, no problem, everything is fine. Chi's mum isn't on the lead, but she's used to that and sprints up to me and gently savages my arm -as she always does- and I'm nearly kissed to death -however, at this point in suddenly aware that my daughter is struggling to hold on to Chi -she's incredibly powerful- and then, all of a sudden, she's loose.
She sprints straight past me. I don't have a hope of catching her. This is one of those times when time seems to stand still - she takes a sudden right turn onto the road, a car swerves and misses her- out of my peripheral vision I can see a large white van  and imagine the meeting of van and dog - and before I have a chance to think I've dived onto the road -goalkeeper style- and caught the dog in my left hand. What a relief.
It was at this point I remembered the van. It missed my head by about a foot. If I was any shorter, I wouldn't have caught the dog, much taller and I probably wouldn't be writing this.
My wife wasn't overly happy -I may be understating things here- and began telling me about the thousands of people who die each year attempting to save their pets from peril. I understand her, of course I do, but I could no more of let Chi get hit by a van than I could her, my children or Hope.
Anyway, both myself and the dog are in severe trouble but never mind, we're both still about.

Chi, in big trouble, yesterday. And today.