A Winter’s Walk and a Mother’s Terror
It was a crisp winter day. The ground was frozen and layered with multiple snowfalls. You could actually say the weather was frigid. Kelly, Max, our dog, and I decided to take a walk around Oakland Lake that morning. The lake was frozen solid. As we walked on the path, our boots scrunched the snow as we went along. The park was deserted except for its winter inhabitants. There were the geese, the squirrels, the rabbits. I guess there were more, but these were the ones evident. There was a shimmering stillness in the air. Max was on the leash, but he was really itching to be free to run around. Since we seemed the only people in the park, Kelly finally took him off his leash. The dog was ecstatic. He ran joyfully up the snow-covered banks on each side of the lake, weaving joyfully through the trees. He barked with glee and delight as he did so. At last he could freely chase the squirrels and the rabbits. “Here I come,” he seemed to say. “Let’s play tag!” The squirrels looked at him in alarm and quickly scampered up the trees. They looked at him from a branch high above him. “Ha ha! Got you again! Why don’t you give up? You can never catch us!” they laughed. Their squirrel laughter echoed throughout the park. Max looked up at them sadly. “I only want to play with you,” he said. He looked about for the rabbits, but they too had disappeared into their rabbit holes. He gazed sadly about him. “I only want to play. Why won’t they play with me?” Max was still a baby dog. He would learn as he grew older. Kelly and I felt sorry for him. He did not seem to understand they were afraid of him because he was a dog. “Max, come here and walk with Mummy and Kelly. We love you.” He came down the incline and trudged reluctantly alongside us. As we walked, we heard the rustle of the rushes where some of the waterfowl lived. In the skies we heard the honking of the geese as they flew above our heads. The park was so still and peaceful on that cold morning. Walking around the lake on the paths felt like we were walking through a picture-perfect Christmas card designed by Currier and Ives. It was so poignantly beautiful. The honking geese were landing. They flew lower and lower. Max cocked his head to one side, eying them intently. Then he smiled. Aha! He was going to have some playmates after all! The geese landed on the frozen expanse of the lake. Max followed, giving chase right behind them! He ran onto the lake. The geese looked behind them and scurried away. Max lost control. He slipped and slid. His legs were splayed in all directions. He turned round and round uncontrollably! “Oh no, Max! Oh no!” I cried in dismay as I watched him lose control and head towards the middle of the lake. I heard the ice crack. I saw Max slip into the frigid lake. I felt Kelly leave my side. From the corner of my eyes I saw him rush across the frozen expanse toward Max! Everything happened in an instant. My heart stopped. I was certain I was about to lose my son and our dog. I cannot describe the sheer terror I felt. In a matter of a split second, Kelly was by Max’s side. He jumped into the frozen lake and scooped the dog up. He was fully clothed. The water weighed him down. I envisioned them both drowning. The ice broke and Kelly was able to swim back. I was babbling hysterically. I was so relieved that they were safe, I couldn’t shut up. The two of them were dripping wet. We had a half-mile walk before getting to the car. The weather was brutally cold. Ice formed on their hair and Kelly’s clothes. I had visions of them dying of pneumonia. Thank goodness the car was still warm. I pushed the heat to the highest temperature. I still could not stop going on and on. I could not help myself. I quickly drove to Kelly’s flat. I left them in front of the building and went to park. They both took a hot shower and thoroughly dried themselves. I drove them to our house. I fed them hot soup. I doled out brandy to Kelly. I still could not stop blabbering, just imagining what could have happened! Peter came home. Kelly tried to explain, but I was still going. I could not stop talking. Finally, Kelly said, “Mum! Enough! We are okay. If you were a radio, I would be able to switch you off! Please!” Peter chuckled with relief. We were all so relieved. He said, “That’s your mother. You never know how she will behave when under stress. Thank God we do not have a tragedy on our hands, son!” Yes, to this day, when I think of that cold winter morning, I thank Him!