Look at this dog:
This is Glencora. She's 11, has arthritis and a bad haircut, doesn't hear very well, and this morning fell over this hill.
You can only see about half of it in this picture. The vertical half. My Fitbit tells me the entire height of the ravine is equivalent to 15 storeys.
This is the ravine behind our house. All kinds of critters live down at the bottom, and they wander up the hill at night to see what's going on. So I can see why the dogs like to go check it out occasionally; I'm sure it smells wonderful. Cora wandered about 2 feet down from the top and couldn't figure out how to get back up. I figured I'd get a leash, walk down the game trail to her, and then help her get back up. Unfortunately, by the time I got back with the leash she had slid down about 8 feet further.
I managed to get the leash on her, but she either could not see the Gametrail I was walking on, or just couldn't get herself stabilized. And I may be dumb, but I'm not dumb enough to try to carry a 45 pound dog on the side of a ravine. So I basically had to wish her good luck and say I see her at the bottom. I figured that from that angle it would be much easier for me to climb up and then help her find a safe way down.
So I ran out of our neighborhood down the side of the hill and up the path that the Township uses for maintenance of the storm drains down there. By the time I did that she was already down there, looking around in circles trying to figure out where home was.
I have absolutely no idea how she managed to get down that 20 foot vertical drop in one piece. Absolutely no idea. I really thought that she was going to be either dead or have several broken limbs.
The little stinker even walked home with a decided prance and a very self-satisfied look on her face. I guess she's happy to have a story to tell.
So, thankfully, Cora came out of her adventure none the worse for wear. On the other hand, I don't think I will ever be the same.