I'm inside. The door swings open. Hubby yells "The dog's in the dugout. Come fast. She'll soon be dead!"

It's minus 10C outside. The dugout is frozen over with ice, except for the open hole in the middle that is kept open by the aeration fan. I know where she (the dog) is before I even get started to grab my winter coat and jump into my boots. I'm more agile than my hubby, but he is already half-way to the edge of the pond by the time I come running out of the house.

I'm running and letting Hubby do the thinking. He tells me to go for the shed where I can find two lariat ropes. I get to the shed and hastily survey the walls for hanging ropes but I don't see any (panic). My line of sight fell to the floor to make sure they weren't there before I decided on the next plan of attack. There they were, all rolled up together. I could tell by the ends that there were several and I didn't want to try to sort it out there. I grabbed all (six?) and dashed out of the shed and drug myself back to the pond. I was already winded badly and my chest was aching badly. Could I have a heart attack doing this? How careful should I be while my dog is dying? I think it's just my lungs. (I haven't run flat-out for a long time and not when it was this cold. When it's cold you can freeze your lungs, so I'm usually careful about that). "I must keep going," I thought.

I was wondering how Hubby thought I could throw a lasso over something so far away. I don't remember if I ever threw a lariat rope and caught anything. Besides that, the dog's head was low in the water. If it goes over her head and then I pull on it, it will just pull off. I had thought a ladder would be involved in this expedition. He was thinking the same thing at the same time. The ladder was retrieved next. We didn't have a very long one close by. The idea with the ladder is to spread your weight out on thin ice. I put the widest end out at the farthest, thinnest area that was close to the hole. (It still wasn't very close.) I was tempted to shove it farther, but Hubby was too worried about that. He tossed one lariat loop over me and I pulled it up under my armpits. He gave me another lariat with a loop started. I took it, made the loop bigger, and tossed. It fell a few feet in front of me. I pulled it back and tried again. Then again. Hubby kept telling me to hold the excess rope in my hand like the cowboys do. It was snarled all the wrong ways. I didn't want to spend the time to get it right, but I tried. That wasn't working so I threw the excess rope out beside me and concentrated on the toss that was severely impeded now by the line that went from me to Hubby in a tight rope fashion. I had to get the one I was tossing over my head; it seemed to clear the one under my arms. Finally I told Hubby to slacken his so I could manage better.

The dog had been still on the edge of the ledge of ice with just her head looking sadly at us. I wanted this to be a story that ended well. I threw and threw. I got closer and closer. Still there was no guarantee that it was going to go far over her head and the rope would likely float. "Oh...come on Sherry...get it right! God, please help me!" I prayed. The dog was still in the same position. How long would that last? What would it be like to see her slowly sink out of sight? Don't think that! I wanted to shimmy out farther laying down on my stomach but that idea terrified Hubby. I was worth more than the dog.

People don't last more than a few minutes in water this cold - at least not in a co-operative active way. After that they slip farther into the water and kind of go into hibernation or a deep sleep, but then it's really hard to get them out. They can't stay near the edge of the ice. You'd have to have something to hook them with and something to hook to. A dog doesn't have much to grab except their collar.

Wow, I finally got the loop over her head. That seemed like forever. Hubby suggested I call her and try to get her excited one last time so she would try to get herself up higher in the water. It worked! "Pull, pull!" Hubby yelled. The rope tightened around Puppy's neck and I yanked. She fell back into and under the water. "Pull!!" insisted Hubby. I could see I was pulling the dog too hard against the icy edge and not giving her a chance to come up. I gave it some slack, the dog came back for another go 'round and I pulled hard. This is the point where the ladder wants to slide off across the ice towards the gaping hole of my impending doom, because I'm standing on it and it becomes my toboggan. Hubby had me secure...I''m sure. Thankfully the dog seemed like an easy pull. I think she did a lot of it herself.
Oh happy day! She was out. I wanted a picture. I managed one quick one as she made it to the shore and slipped out of the rope. Hubby was still concerned and rightly so. He said that we had to get her to the house fast. It is colder outside the water than in the water. I was worried when she started to stagger that it was going to be too far, she would go down on us, she would be too heavy to carry. We could drag her. We would. Eventually she staggered all the way with all the towing and verbal insistence.

I never have let a dog into my house. I did this time. I got out my best, big towels and covered her, rubbing the water off as best as I could. She shivered, licked, ground her teeth and shook and quaked. Her breathing was heavy and laborious. We let her dry off and hoped that when we turned her back out that she wouldn't get pneumonia. Pneumonia comes from the change in air temperatures as well as the depleted condition. Another dog lover told us that we shouldn't leave her in too long either. We debated on a blow dryer, but decided it was best for her to warm up slowly although I don't think I'd feel that way if I just got drug from a frozen pond and then forced across a snowy, frozen, windy expanse to the house. I would want the hot tub...NOW.

Hubby had been outside working when he heard the dog's whimper. He stopped and looked around the obvious places, but saw nothing. He started back to the house where he originally intended to go. Another little whimper. What? He looked harder and in the least obvious directions. There was nothing but her black head against the white ice shelf to give up her whereabouts. He hit his highest gear and now his body is paying for it. My chest isn't aching anymore now but I keep trying to cough up stuff that wasn't there before this. I think I froze my lungs a bit. The dog is silently and obediently spending her time on the doormat in the entry. Phewww!


She's recovering under my towels. Hubby, in his compassion, thinks that I should give the dog some water and food.

OK...but she drank no water. She must have had enough is my conclusion. We give her water in a pail regularly, and there's always the option of a little snow that she normally and so fondly rolls in and bites at for fun. She shouldn't have been thirsty enough to go to the dugout for that purpose. She didn't even drink from it this summer. She did however like the water I drug for 300 feet to the chicken pens. She thought that was better than the dugout water or the pail I gave her at the house although they have the same source. Weird dog. After the porcupine incident and now this, I'm beginning to wonder if she has a death wish. She's certainly taxing our hearts!




  Submitted By: sherryvsthebackcountry.ca