Sunday, August 29, 2010

In which I rescue a small dog

That's what my legs looked like after I saved Zoe's life this weekend. (Actually, this is about an hour afterwards; unfortunately, there was no camera available to document the extent of the muck that went up to my knees.)

You remember, Zoe, right?

One of our favorite weekend things to do is to put Zoe on the bike, bike a few miles on the Genesee Valley Greenway, lock the bikes up (probably unnecessary since it's very rural and there's practically no one around, but having had multiple run-ins with bike thieves, I never leave my bike unlocked) and then take a walk and let her run.

Well, T. and I were walking along, chatting about how it felt to have both kids back at college, when we realized that Zoe was nowhere to be seen. Generally this means she has stopped to roll in something that smells like it's been dead and rotting for at least two weeks, so we walked back to find her, calling her all the while. Usually she then comes running, but this time, we still didn't see or hear her.

Finally we realized that she had gone off the trail, into a swamp-like area, looking for water. Unfortunately there was mud that looked like it would swallow a rhinoceros whole between her and us. She was muddy all the way up to her belly, which tells me she had gone through it and wasn't about to come back.

We called for a few minutes and tried to get her to come back, but she was not budging. Before I go any further, I should tell you that another member of our household, our sweet kitty, died this week at the age of 17. It has hit T. hard.

As I was looking at Zoe on the other side of the muck, all I could think was, "I don't think Tanya could take it if we lost another animal this week." I had this image of Zoe moving further away from us and into more muck, and maybe drowning in it.

Way too dramatic, I know. But enough to motivate me to step into the muck to get Zoe. I imagined myself as one of those cartoon characters that disappears into the quicksand. I sunk in up to my knees, went a few steps, grabbed Zoe and handed her to T.

With a great deal of force, and grateful that I was not wearing open-heeled shoes which undoubtedly would still be back in the mud, I lifted my feet out and got back on the trail.

And promptly walked back to the bike so I could get home and clean up!

I suppose I should now thank our kids for merely leaving dirty dishes out and the gas tank empty. I'm glad I didn't have to haul you out of muddy quicksand.

Now, don't go getting any ideas...

1 comment:

vicki hartman said...

You are a hero!
sorry to hear about the kitty.


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