December 8, 2007
Bah! I said, to Storm Team 20s Scarecast of an ICE STORM WARNING. Wanting to go on our traditional holiday outing to see the 8PM performance of the Nutcracker this evening, I hovered around the weather news most of the day. Nothing but gloom and doom, ice and freezing rain and sleet was forecasted for the evening. Around 4PM, I ended up cancelling taking my Great Niece Emma to an event she really loves. (I get to see "The Chipmunk Movie" instead. Hmmm. Sort of an odd cultural exchange.)
My teenage son Alex informed me that he and his girlfriend would still be going to the Nutcracker, in spite of all the warnings, advisories and lectures from his Father.
I worried all night, looking at the clock, hoping that everything was OK. I watched the weather radar, and saw nothing in our area but a few "puffs" floating around us - no big deal. I even ventured so far as to smile at husband George and say, "It's really not doing anything outside;" not as an "I told you so," but as an attempt to assuage his feelings about our only child being out in an ice storm, and me being the one who gave him the tickets to go.
I figured Alex would be home around 10:30 or 11, and sure enough, he was - he ran in, said everything was great, they had a good time, the roads were, "um, not bad at all, really" and quick as a flash, off he went to Chatham with a friend.
What is the point to this blathering missive?!
My Border Collie, Lucky, woke me up at 1AM to tell me she had to go outside. NOW. It was VERY URGENT. My husband recently banned her from the backyard during wet weather, so I begrudgingly put on my slippers and went out the front door with her.
"Stupid non-ice storm!" I mumbled, thinking Emma and I should have gone to the Nutcracker after all ... and as I barely got the word "storm" out of my mouth, my aging 70-pound dog slid down the driveway. She would have gotten at least a 7 for her flying Hamill Camel. She looked at me like, "What the ...?!" and clambered over to the snowy yard, which was now encrusted in ice, making her walk even more awkwardly.
I stood safely under the eave by the garage, not happy about being outside in my PJs at 1AM waiting for the dog to do her thang, and kinda giggling about Lucky's swooop down the ice.
Finally, she was through, but wait … what?! Oh no! Lucky was convinced she was STUCK in the parkway, and couldn't make it into the yard. I called, I begged, I pleaded. I used my stern voice. But apparently the sidewalk had become an icy abyss that Lucky did not dare cross.
She'll do anything for food, so I bribed her with a cookie. But this time, she just stood looking forlorn, attempting to take a few steps and then skittering back.
By now, I'm more than a bit chilly in my PJs and I decide I need to go back in the house and get my coat. "That usually does the trick," I thought, knowing Lucky wouldn't want to be left outside alone in the cold.
"Come on, Lucky!!" I pleaded. No such luck, pardon the pun. So I went inside to get my coat, where I was greeted at the door by our two cats, who seemed very concerned about their friend, THE DOG. Well, I suspect that Rufus was concerned; Trixie just wanted me to come back to bed so she could snuggle.
Back outside, and Lucky's still at the bottom of the yard on the parkway, trying desperately to get into the large snowy yard but not sure how to cross the sidewalk. I implore her once more to come up with me. No way, she says.
I go back inside and grab her leash, which usually makes her very happy, tell her I'll give her treats, which usually makes her even happier, but still she would not budge.
I have nerve damage in my right leg that causes chronic pain. It's been especially bad today, and I was sure that *I* should not be attempting to get down the ice-clad driveway OR the icy snow encrusted yard, even if it was to rescue my poor old dog. I could imagine both of us down there, STUCK. I could see the snowplow going by, covering us both up with slush. Not good.
Thought for just a second about going inside and waking up the hubby, who had put the dreaded "PLEASE DO NOT LET THE DOG IN THE BACKYARD" sign on the back door in the first place. Come get your dog, I thought, feeling like Malificent, the wicked queen from Sleeping Beauty.
But alas, I am a nicer person. Hubby was mad at me anyhow for letting the aforementioned teenage son go to the Nutcracker in an ice storm. Better not poke the sleeping bear.
However, I couldn't leave my almost-12-year-old dog who, though she was supposed to be my son's dog, had really been my companion all these years, especially after my injury.
I decide to brave it. I stomp through the ice and snow, making loud crunching, crackling sounds as I went, knee aching at every step. I got closer and tried to coax Lucky towards me. She'd gingerly move forward, then move back. Too scary, she'd say.
I finally reached the edge of the yard and was able to let her smell my hand and guide her a little bit toward me. She reached the sidewalk but once again she spun around, this time doing a Salchow with triple toe loop. I can hear Dick Button now! "Amazing! GOLD for the USA!" as the crowd goes wild.
She scrambled up ahead of me in the icy yard, slipping several times, as I tried to watch her and my own steps. We got to the top of the driveway, and once again she slipped, but she managed to "make it stick."
Once inside, I went to the pantry and got her a large Milkbone dog biscuit. You deserve this, old girl. She looked up at me with grateful eyes, and nudged my hand while I patted her head.
Bah! I said, to Storm Team 20s Scarecast of an ICE STORM WARNING. Wanting to go on our traditional holiday outing to see the 8PM performance of the Nutcracker this evening, I hovered around the weather news most of the day. Nothing but gloom and doom, ice and freezing rain and sleet was forecasted for the evening. Around 4PM, I ended up cancelling taking my Great Niece Emma to an event she really loves. (I get to see "The Chipmunk Movie" instead. Hmmm. Sort of an odd cultural exchange.)
My teenage son Alex informed me that he and his girlfriend would still be going to the Nutcracker, in spite of all the warnings, advisories and lectures from his Father.
I worried all night, looking at the clock, hoping that everything was OK. I watched the weather radar, and saw nothing in our area but a few "puffs" floating around us - no big deal. I even ventured so far as to smile at husband George and say, "It's really not doing anything outside;" not as an "I told you so," but as an attempt to assuage his feelings about our only child being out in an ice storm, and me being the one who gave him the tickets to go.
I figured Alex would be home around 10:30 or 11, and sure enough, he was - he ran in, said everything was great, they had a good time, the roads were, "um, not bad at all, really" and quick as a flash, off he went to Chatham with a friend.
What is the point to this blathering missive?!
My Border Collie, Lucky, woke me up at 1AM to tell me she had to go outside. NOW. It was VERY URGENT. My husband recently banned her from the backyard during wet weather, so I begrudgingly put on my slippers and went out the front door with her.
"Stupid non-ice storm!" I mumbled, thinking Emma and I should have gone to the Nutcracker after all ... and as I barely got the word "storm" out of my mouth, my aging 70-pound dog slid down the driveway. She would have gotten at least a 7 for her flying Hamill Camel. She looked at me like, "What the ...?!" and clambered over to the snowy yard, which was now encrusted in ice, making her walk even more awkwardly.
I stood safely under the eave by the garage, not happy about being outside in my PJs at 1AM waiting for the dog to do her thang, and kinda giggling about Lucky's swooop down the ice.
Finally, she was through, but wait … what?! Oh no! Lucky was convinced she was STUCK in the parkway, and couldn't make it into the yard. I called, I begged, I pleaded. I used my stern voice. But apparently the sidewalk had become an icy abyss that Lucky did not dare cross.
She'll do anything for food, so I bribed her with a cookie. But this time, she just stood looking forlorn, attempting to take a few steps and then skittering back.
By now, I'm more than a bit chilly in my PJs and I decide I need to go back in the house and get my coat. "That usually does the trick," I thought, knowing Lucky wouldn't want to be left outside alone in the cold.
"Come on, Lucky!!" I pleaded. No such luck, pardon the pun. So I went inside to get my coat, where I was greeted at the door by our two cats, who seemed very concerned about their friend, THE DOG. Well, I suspect that Rufus was concerned; Trixie just wanted me to come back to bed so she could snuggle.
Back outside, and Lucky's still at the bottom of the yard on the parkway, trying desperately to get into the large snowy yard but not sure how to cross the sidewalk. I implore her once more to come up with me. No way, she says.
I go back inside and grab her leash, which usually makes her very happy, tell her I'll give her treats, which usually makes her even happier, but still she would not budge.
I have nerve damage in my right leg that causes chronic pain. It's been especially bad today, and I was sure that *I* should not be attempting to get down the ice-clad driveway OR the icy snow encrusted yard, even if it was to rescue my poor old dog. I could imagine both of us down there, STUCK. I could see the snowplow going by, covering us both up with slush. Not good.
Thought for just a second about going inside and waking up the hubby, who had put the dreaded "PLEASE DO NOT LET THE DOG IN THE BACKYARD" sign on the back door in the first place. Come get your dog, I thought, feeling like Malificent, the wicked queen from Sleeping Beauty.
But alas, I am a nicer person. Hubby was mad at me anyhow for letting the aforementioned teenage son go to the Nutcracker in an ice storm. Better not poke the sleeping bear.
However, I couldn't leave my almost-12-year-old dog who, though she was supposed to be my son's dog, had really been my companion all these years, especially after my injury.
I decide to brave it. I stomp through the ice and snow, making loud crunching, crackling sounds as I went, knee aching at every step. I got closer and tried to coax Lucky towards me. She'd gingerly move forward, then move back. Too scary, she'd say.
I finally reached the edge of the yard and was able to let her smell my hand and guide her a little bit toward me. She reached the sidewalk but once again she spun around, this time doing a Salchow with triple toe loop. I can hear Dick Button now! "Amazing! GOLD for the USA!" as the crowd goes wild.
She scrambled up ahead of me in the icy yard, slipping several times, as I tried to watch her and my own steps. We got to the top of the driveway, and once again she slipped, but she managed to "make it stick."
Once inside, I went to the pantry and got her a large Milkbone dog biscuit. You deserve this, old girl. She looked up at me with grateful eyes, and nudged my hand while I patted her head.
LUCKY TUCKED IN BED FOR THE NIGHT!
So yeah ... there was an ice storm and it's slick outside ... be careful out there.
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