Chilly Feet

Mary Wakeman — Fri, 2 Jan 2009 17:06:07 -0500

The sun rose behind a barren thicket of woods to present this newday with it a brilliant orange blaze. A glow that mingled with subtle gray hews in the predawn. Morning temperatures lingered at 12 degrees while a wind chill made the air even more bitingly bitter. I stepped outside to start my aged car and left the dogs in the cottage. OnceSuccessful with starting a nearly frozen automobile engine, I let my friends out for a brief walk to allow time for the car to warm. Instantly, I knew this morning’s walk would be short as wind blast through my thin wool hat. Willow and Nash did not appear bothered by the morning chill nippiness. They ran about as usual and explored stonewalls, tree stumps, and twigs. They burrowed through the mounded humps of powdered snow, snorting and sniffing as they excavated. I marveled at their canine mental toughness and ability to make the best of every situation. They were just so pleased to be outside, walking with me, a mutual feeling. We hadn’t gotten very far when Willow began to limp, holdup her paw and act bothered. I stopped my brisk pace to watch as she tried to ignore the discomfort. Willow took notice as I stared and gambled over with a gimp, her tender paw in the air. She came right up and leaned into my legs, lifted the irritated paw and gently asked for help with her soulful brown eyes, she simply radiated with love. I was touched by this simple plea for help. Moments like this make me truly realize how important I am to my canine friends and how important they are to me. The nonverbal communication and understanding that transpired during that instant was extraordinarily heat felt. It seemed to miraculously tighten threads of a weave that twine our lives and species together. In my mind there isn’t anything that measures up. I embraced this moment to carry with me throughout my days. I leaned over; gently grasped Willow’s paw and looked at her whitishpink pads. I brushed off the snow. The frozen ground and frosty cold snow had piercedthe tough calluses on her pad and made the walk uncomfortable. She too had finally been affected by the cold. After I gave her little paw a rub we turned for home. As we headed for the warmth of the old cottage Nash began to have trouble with the bitter cold on his feet. Twelve degrees on this morning was just a bit too cold as we had justgotten out of bed where we were covered with a cozy flannel down comforter. The leapfrom the warmth of two canines and human under quilted covers, snug and warm, tothe frigid morning air did not give our bodies a chance to adapt. I am certain we will brave the cold to walk later in this day. Perhaps by then our paws will have adapted.

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Chilly Feet