Not Quite Walking on Water

Cats have nine lives. I wonder how many dogs have. I'd like to know because Shea has certainly used many of his already. Today being one of those days.

As temperatures here have been fairly warm during the day and hover around freezing at night, bodies of water are thawing. One pond on my parents property has completely thawed and is full of strictly water. The other pond had a layer of ice left. As with anything that melts, the ice was thicker in some places than others. This past week, when Jeff was here, we talked about being very careful around the ice. We talked to Shea about it and scolded him every time he went near the ponds. It didn't stop him though. He figured it out each time, going only a foot or less from the shore. I mean, really, he is scared of his own shadow. Cracking ice should terrify him!

Key word, should! The talks, the near falls, did not phase our dog. Not Shea. For today, he decided to trot out on to the half thawed pond.

When he stepped in and the ice below him began to crack, I thought there was no way he would go further. I was wrong. All the while he was moving, the ice held him. But once he stopped and looked at me, wagging his tail, the ice beneath him crumbled. He went down. Shea has never had his head under water and he was now bobbing. Looking extremely hopeless, he flailed in the water. He looked exactly like Babe Bennett did in Mr. Deeds when she fell through the ice. 

Shea wasn't strong enough to swim through the thin layer of ice and I could see panic setting in. Needless to say, I wasn't Joe Cool either. I did what I had to do. I crashed through the ice, chest-deep in freezing cold water and carried my baby boy to land. I wasn't cold until I climbed out of the pond, weighed down by my water-logged layers of clothing. By the time I was standing up, my fetch-feigned dog was heading back into the water to retrieve his tennis ball. I could have killed him. Luckily, my fat ass had cleared a path big enough for him to swim through. 

Needless to say, Shea has been banished from the backyard until all remnants of ice are gone from the water. Without hesitation, there is not much I wouldn't to for my dog. I can only hope that dogs have more than the nine lives cats average. I also hope that when Jeff reads this, no I didn't tell him about it yet, he allows me to keep temporary custody of Shea. Please! Look, he is okay: