Ruby, my lab, lives for hiking. She's always up for a bit of trail time (unless it's pouring rain or too hot to move), but is particularly fond of winter hiking, which works out perfectly as I love snowshoeing.
Last January, we were walking / snowshoeing on a trail and decided to take a detour through some woods and forge a new path across a nearby field. The temperature was unseasonably high, and the short patch of woods actually turned out to be flooded, with 2 ft. of water beneath less than one inch of ice and one ft. of melting snow. I made it through just fine, but Ruby, following in my footsteps, fell through the ice. She didn't make a sound, so I had taken another ten steps before I realized that she wasn't behind me. I ran back and found her submerged up to her shoulders, unable to climb out, and struggling to keep her nose above the ice water. Getting her out was surprisingly difficult, because I had nothing to hold on to, so pulling actually served to bring me down, rather than her up. Eventually I resigned myself to getting a soaker, ditched my snowshoes, jumped in, and lifted her - by the collar and her belly - onto firm ground. By the time I climbed out, we were both drenched and shivering. To make matters worse, Ruby had lost her new tennis ball, and kept trying to go back to get it. We had a chilly walk home, after which I gave her a warm bath. Both of us were OK and we were back on the trails the next day, but I shudder to think about what would have happened if I hadn't been nearby to help her out. I would have been inconsolable if I had let my best friend drown in an ice puddle.
Here's a shot of Ruby from today's 3-hour excursion - as always, avec tennis ball.
All the best,
- Mike