It was half past noon Wednesday, December 20, when I decided to take my dog for a walk. I was bored at home, stuck inside during this blizzard, so was up for the adventure; he claims to have wolf in him, so we were in agreement. Unfortunately I had no sled, only my typical winter gear. But when this walk turned into a workout, and then into an adventure, the gear held up, and the dog went above and beyond what our relationship demanded of him. I've only had him for a few months, and already he is looking out for me when the path I follow leaves me with a twisted ankle face down in the snow.
We started by bounding through drifts to bare spots where no ice could be found. It was the intensity of the moment that drove each of us forward. His drive was harder than mine; at times I'd let him drag me through the snow just because I knew he could, and just because running behind him was exhausting. He has Harvey the Rabbit's hind legs that can bound like a gymnast off a spring board, with paws the size of my hands, letting him float nicely over the drift laden landscape, and he loves the snow. I have yet to see him happier and with more energy than when he is hurdling through the white fields near my house.
When we finally made it to the bike trails near my house, he looked back unsure of where to head next and I urged him on into the wind. It's not exactly an area with any trees, so the wind whipped us fiercely. Every step we took seemed to lead us to the right. Every trail we followed was a right at the fork in the road. The drifts were gone out here, as the wind was not held up anywhere. After about ten minutes its strength doubled and we were forced to find shelter. There was some sort of storage shed there that we ducked behind. He went to the bathroom in about three different places while I merely put my back against the shed, took a few deep breaths, and regained my composure.
He peeked his head around the corner and jerked back, not wanting to go back out there. I wasn't in the mood to become trapped out there so I began running and pulled him along. Within five seconds he was back to pulling me. We approached a road that would take us back near the house. I was running, not thinking, running and not watching. All of a sudden I was face down in the snow. Dizzy, I looked down.
This isn't snow, I thought;
it's all red. My dog was the next thing I saw, his nose in my face, eyes stern and focused on mine as if to ask if I was ok. He licked the blood running from my nose as I sat up somewhat confused. What had happened?
It turns out I had not seen the curb in front of me, with snow covering it quite well. I ran off of it, my knees buckled and I sent my nose ripping into the icy pavement. This section only had an inch or so of snow covering it. My dog was still licking my face as I slowly got up and stumbled forward. I hadn't noticed it until then but it seems I'd twisted my ankle as well. Luckily I hadn't hurt my knees any more than one already is with the ACL reconstruction I had a few months prior.
We still had a mile or so to go before the house and that can seem like a lifetime in this weather, especially with a new pain surging through my face and a newly twisted ankle on the same leg I recently had knee surgery on. My dog watched me for a few seconds; as if he was studying the way I was walking. He must've been, because instead of pulling me along, from there on out he walked on my left side so I could lean on him. He was my organic walker and he didn't complain once. When we had to cross some deep drifts he would walk directly in front of me and plow the way.
With his help we made it home. By that time the bleeding had stopped and I couldn't even feel my ankle anymore. I thanked him for his help the best way I knew how, hugging him as many times as I could and feeding him bacon and hot dogs. It's not his regular diet, but you have to splurge sometimes on those who are close to you.