Justin, had literally for a moment there thought - well considered it at least, that he was going to die. Not in a ridiculous - not possible - but overdramatic way. But, in a quite-actually-possible all hyphenated way. Because, Hannah’s dogs weren’t exactly miniature poodles, they were giant 50 kilo weighing dogs, who all really thought it be good to show their undying love and appreciation for him, by trampling his chest, neck (ugh) and groin region (fuck). People died every year being trampled by things, Justin declared this was no different. It was quite possible he could die.
He felt pressure being slowly lifted from him, paws were still stepping on areas he wouldn’t ever have liked stepped on, but the fact of the matter was they were dispersing. “Thanks.” He groaned, but refused any help on getting back up onto his feet. He needed a moment.
“I was just looking for a book...” Justin, started picking himself up, he was definitely going to bruise. “Weren’t you in the kitchen?”