Sometimes in an emergency, you have a moment to wonder–Is this an emergency?
Yes! You fool!
Like this morning, as I climbed toward a frozen island on the Rock River, accompanied by the black dog, Shady. We’ve had a flash freeze. It’s six below. The shorelines are frozen good, but out toward the middle, geese line the edge of the open water watching ice floes ride the current.
In a couple of days, temps will rise, and this frozen tableau will melt away. That’s why we’re here now, seizing this rare moment.
To get to the island, you have to scramble over frozen logs and thin ice. Something about islands demands you get to them, even in winter. Shady is way more nimble than me, which is why I’m surprised she’s the one who falls and breaks through the ice. The black dog panics, and instead of jumping back on the log, she bounds the other way, breaking ice toward deep water. Shady! I yell. When she turns back, it’s too late. She crashes toward another log, but now she’s zapped from the cold. She can’t pull herself up. She just hangs there submerged in the icy current.
All this occurs in moments. And `I wonder, Is this an emergency?
No amount of cajoling draws Shady from the water. We’re only a mile from home, I think, as I plow through the ice toward her. But it will be a cold one. I’m able to crawl to my frozen dog, get a glove on her nape, and yank. Poor girl. I carry her to high ground. The geese in the river look coolly on. Maybe they prefer tragedy. The black dog views me as a savior, not like the fool who drug her here.
