Well, so much for my mocking tone; the predicted ice storm arrived on schedule. Ice everywhere! The lawn! The trash cans! The two concrete slabs in the backyard that are part of the ongoing addition to the house.
And as I stood, barely keeping my balance, Action Dog (she who actually has three names) stood next to me, hitting me on the side of my leg with her frisbee.
“Are you insane?” I asked. You’ll just fall on your butt out there.”
Dropping the frisbee at my feet, she barked, pleadingly.
“All right,” I said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I tossed the frisbee across the yard and she ran - straight and true - and caught it in the air. This being Action Dog, she likes to throw the frisbee in the air and catch it again before trotting back to me, which she did.
And she did all this without sliding, or slipping, and in the dark.
“It’s cold and I’m wet,” I told her.
But she barked again, maniacal joy in her eyes. Daddy - frisbee - running - jumping!
So we spent a few minutes in the dark, and I watched my dog race across the sheet of ice in the yard, never sliding, even after jumping into the air, playing with her beloved frisbee.
Somewhere in that savage breast, I am sure, beats the heart of a potential Super Soldier . . .
Quote of the Day
The trouble with the future is that it usually arrives before we're ready for it. - Arnold H. Glasow