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Uphill, both ways, in the snow...

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  • Uphill, both ways, in the snow...

    well, o.k., only uphill going UP, but it was a MOUNTAIN!!!

    Shenanigan is aptly named. She is my 1/2 Vizla rescue, now the proud (?) mother of not one but TWO litters (long story, but we've been to fambly planning finally... )

    SO I log off this a.m., put on my polarfleece, boots, down jacket, etc., go to the door, and realize... it's been WAY too quiet.

    The yellow dog has taken off... ATTACHED to the black dog. Apparantly the coupler (a 6ft professional coupler you can get for tracking dogs) came off the end of the tie out. I suspect ice in the snap.

    I watered the ponies, calling the whole time... NOTHING. So I get in the truck. Up the road. Down the road... no puppy footprints (X2) anywhere that I can see to the sides... Up the road, down the road. Visions of them wrapped around a tree, freezing to death, panicking, struggling... (I have FAR to vivid an imagination) THEN... just as I'm about to give up, far, far away I hear Shanny answer me... yelp, bark, pathetic puppy bark... "Mumma, come GET me!!"

    SO. I drive out that barely plowed access road, and YEP, there's the two sets of tracks. I get out and start to track. Irish people by nature are neither winter people nor trackers, I mean really, when was the last time you heard of an Irishman winning at the Winter Games? There's a reason the Island is in the Gulf Stream... But this is *fairly* easy, TWO sets of fresh doggie prints in the KNEE DEEP snow. The occasional flurry of prints around a tree where apparantly they discussed which way to go TOGETHER...

    The terrain starts getting STEEPER. The barking is still waaaaayyyy off in the distance. I live on top of a glacial mountain. The granite cap is one of those spoon shaped thingamabobs you learned about in geography. Accross from it, is it's other half. But not rounded and smooth like Bald Mountain... NOOOOOOO... a steep, jagged ridge, crossed with smooth glacial granite with CREVICES in between them.

    At one point I come accross what appears to be a road, but not really, but it's clearer and I think I'll trek thataway and catch up with the tracks again higher up... did I mention my people aren't really *suited* for this type of thing? WRONG... it was a smooth, bare ridge of granite, which is GREAT until you FALL INTO THE CRACKS... the snow *gathers* in the cracks apparantly, so you don't SEE them 'till you're IN EM. Okay, so by this time I'm panting like a pathetic dog on an August night... so I sit awhile when I fall. And keep thinking... "hmm... can I trip again here? Nappy time puhleese." At one point I have to backtrack quite a bit to get up a sheer ledge that's only about chest height, but smooooth granite, not a foothold to be found. Now, if I could do those damn PUSHUPS I could just boost myself up with all that upper body strength, ala MacGyver or sumfin... Shoulda just stayed on the tracks, the DOGS knew the easiest way up, even if it was longer...

    Finally... I am nearing the crest of the ridge. The barking is growing closer... Mind you, Shenanigan has been the only one answering me, and I have this horrid visions of Eamon being dead on the end of the leash, frozen already, strangled to death by his own panic... but NO--there they are! BOTH of them, ECSTATIC to see me... so ECSTATIC, they BREAK the branch they are stuck on, and are...

    freed....



    I unsnapped Eamon and kept the yellow dog firmly leashed. There is a reason she's not obedience trained--it cut alot of time to be mostly PULLED down the mountain. Must be some Husky blood somewhere in the Vizsla/Lab/Sharpei...

    I have NO IDEA how far I trekked, what astounded me was that they did not get stuck sooner. The trip up took me close to an hour and a half, the trip down, about an hour (I stayed to the frozen streambed once we hit it, cut off a good part of the journey.

    By the time I was within sight of my truck again, I could barely move. In fact, within a mere hundred yards or so I had to flop down and rest. My legs just would NOT trudge through the drifts. (meanwhile said grateful dogs kept attacking me when I fell or tried to rest, licking the FACE while I laughed, scolded, laughed some more and tried to beat them off... )

    FINALLY... we are all home, safe and warm. Eamon's been telling *everyone* about the great adventure he had, and Shenanigan is acting a bit sheepish, like she knows that probably wasn't the brightest move she's ever made. She is blonde afterall... and a blonde bimbo at that...

    I thought about those people in Colorado trapped in the Rockies once or twice when I fell face first into snowdrifts... but I guess they would've sent the troops out when I didn't appear for work tonight... the thrashing-through-the-snow tracks would have been VERY easy to follow. No bloodhounds needed thanks. (though a nice St. Bernard with one of those LOVELY casks would've come in handy....)

    At any rate, that was my adventure.

    Oh... and I *think* I'm all set for working out today... not *quite* sure, but I *think* this probably counts.....

    fwiw, it was a balmy 10 degrees or so in the sun, a bit chillier in the woods, but heck, a heatwave comparatively. I'm ever so grateful for the little things...

  • #2
    quote:
    Originally posted by deputy37:
    She is my 1/2 Vizla rescue

    Rescue dog? UH-HUH!!! name fits!!!
    The Moral Majority is.......neither!!

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    • #3
      Ever seen the movie Snow Dogs?

      Glad you 3 are alright!
      "When you guys get home and face an anti-war protester, look him in the eyes and shake his hand. Then, wink at his girlfriend, because she knows she's dating a *****."
      -Commanding General, 1st Marine Division

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