The Dog Who Nearly Wasn't

Some time ago a friend asked why we had sturdy loops of reinforced webbing attached to the roof rack on The Van. Gather closer to the fire little ones and I will tell you why these little loops are there...

Once up on a time, yesterday, Husband and I decided to take our dogs for their evening walk at a local provincial park known to many as French Bay and known to Jesse and Meeker as The Place With The Ducks. Remember the ducks, little ones, they are important.

Bright was the sun and high were our hearts as we set out on trail, marvelling at the Albertan spring (-1 C) and enjoying wearing our shorts and swim trunks for the first time in 7 months. That actually did not happen. Instead we congratulated ourselves on remembering toques and mittens because the trail led us above the (still frozen) lake and the cold updraft from the ice was slowly freezing our nips off. 

As we walked along we compulsively head-counted our dogs, as anyone walking Meeker will inevitably find themselves doing.

"One... two. We're good."

"One................... two. Still good."

"Jesse, stop rolling in the dead bear!..... two. We're good."

"One..."

"One..."

(In unison) "MEEKER!"

Normally the absence of Meeker is not cause for concern. Normally the absence of Meeker is briefly followed by the reappearance of Meeker with the leg of a moose or deer in tow. Normally we tell him he is a good boy and remind him that "he is absolutely not bringing that in the van."

Normally we are not walking next to a partially frozen, 2k wide stretch of Alberta lake, peppered on the opposite shore with ducks, loons, moose, beaver and many more creatures besides.

By the time we had reached the end of the trail by the boat launch, a small crowd had gathered.  A helpful bird watcher loaned us his binoculars and sure enough, there was our boy, 2k away on the opposite side of the lake, gleefully chasing ducks and beaver and blissfully unaware of the fact that he had just stranded himself.

Husband and I looked at our fool dog capering far away in a small strip of open water and I won't lie, we briefly entertained the notion of explaining to Jesse on the way back to the van that she would have to be very brave now because Alberta had swallowed her brother.

As the sun began to set, Husband took off for home and our canoe. (Ah, remember the loops? The loops are for tying down the canoe, quickly and efficiently, when the weather is bad or your dog is an idiot. That's called continuity, little ones.) I stayed to keep a watchful, if distant eye on the dog that is seriously turning out to be more trouble than he is worth and who had better get a job if he intends to keep up these sorts of shenanigans.

Husband returned and paddled around the floes to the opposite shore and retrieved our retriever who, by that time had worked himself into quite a state of distress. He was also mildly hypothermic and possibly suffering from shock which meant he got to spend the night snuggled between Husband and I, wrapped in a sleeping bag like the world's furriest burrito.

It is hard to watch someone you love become frightened. It is painful to watch as your best friend slowly realizes they cannot help themselves. It's is terrifying to hear their distress echoing off the dark trees, and to be powerless to help them. 

Meeker tried for the better part of an hour to cross the bay, as I stood helplessly on the far shore, begging him to stay put. Each time he swam to the ice pack and scrabbled for purchase, more of his strength was gone. Each time his tired body went under on his way back to shore, my heart would stop. 

Then Husband did what he does best and rescued our idiot dog. His quick thinking and strong back saved one of the precious heartbeats that make up our little family from dying alone and afraid, in the cold. 
Thank you, sweetie. And thank you to Reg "The Bird Watcher", for his company, kind words and reassurance while I watched my puppy from too far away.

I regret nothing.