Sally Breslin: My Life: COLD NIGHT, HOT DOG

A few days ago it snowed about five inches here, and by that evening, the temperature had dropped to 11º F.

When it came to shoveling, I procrastinated, mainly because I was wrapped in a nice fleece blanket on the sofa and sipping hot tea, so the thought of going outside in the brutal cold seemed about as appealing to me as having my appendix removed without anesthesia.

But then a meteorologist appeared on local TV and advised everyone not to wait to shovel because in a few hours sleet would be falling and turn the current ”light and fluffy” snow into concrete.

So at 9:00 PM, I put on my long underwear, a sweatshirt, sweatpants, hat, coat, scarf, boots and mittens, then grabbed the shovel and headed outside in the dark. I shoveled in front of the two garage doors and then a path to the front porch. After that, I walked the length of the driveway – about 1/4 mile – and shoveled out the mailbox. Finally, I shoveled the two decks out back. By then, I’d been outside for 45 minutes and was suffering from a bad case of brain freeze...even in my feet.

I was ready to head back inside to my cozy sofa when a pang of guilt struck me. I hadn’t shoveled a path out to my bird feeder, which is in a tree on the outside of the fenced-in yard (because if the birds came into the yard, my dogs would try to eat them). So I shoveled a path out there and even cleared an area where I could toss food for the ground feeders, like the crows and mourning doves.

I finally came back inside at 10 PM and put the kettle on for tea so I could thaw out. At that point, my dogs, Eden – a Boxer/golden retriever mix, and Wynter – a rottweiler, wanted to go out. I opened the back door and let them out into the yard.

About 15 minutes later, I opened the door and called the dogs. Eden ran up to the door, but her partner in crime wasn’t with her…which was unusual. I called Wynter. No response. I called again. Still no response. So I asked Eden, “Where’s Wynter?” (as if I actually expected an answer). She ran over to the other deck and peered underneath it. My first thought was Wynter was lying under there, injured…or worse.

I threw on all my layers of clothes again, then grabbed a flashlight and went out to the yard to search. But there was no sign of Wynter anywhere. She seemed to have vanished into thin air.

“Did aliens fly overhead and beam her up?” I asked Eden, who stared blankly at me.

I used the flashlight to make a sweep of the yard once again…and that’s when I spotted it…the back gate was wide open! I’d forgotten to shut it after shoveling a path to the bird feeder! I groaned out loud and called myself several colorful names for being so careless. Sure enough, dog tracks in the fresh snow headed straight out of the gate and into the woods out back. Wynter never had been loose before, so I imagined her crossing the Canadian border right about then.

I brought Eden back into the house and then, without even grabbing my phone, I headed out to the woods to try to track down Wynter, never thinking that if I fell and couldn’t get up, no one would find my body until the spring thaw.

As I tromped through the snow in the dark, going deeper and deeper into the woods while shouting Wynter’s name, I began to think, “This is getting scary. Maybe I should turn around before I come face to face with the Abominable Snowman.” But I knew if I gave up my search for Wynter, she’d be a dog-sicle by morning.

I also was scared she’d find her way out to the main road and get hit by a car, mainly because she is, as the vet likes to refer to her, a “tire biter.” Whenever she sees a car, she goes straight for the tires – usually while I’m being dragged on her leash behind her.

That’s when it dawned on me – I had no leash with me! If I did find Wynter, how was I supposed to lead her back home, especially if she was enjoying her newfound freedom? And there was no way I could pick up and carry a 100-lb. dog.

Finally, after nearly two hours of walking and shouting Wynter’s name, I gave up and headed back toward the house. For one thing, I hardly had any voice left, and for another, I was pretty sure my nose had frozen and dropped off somewhere out in the middle of a clump of fir trees, because I couldn’t feel anything on my face any more.

I’m such a chicken about driving on snowy roads, if someone offered me $10,000 to drive only a mile, I’d still refuse. But I decided to be brave and drive around the neighborhood to search for Wynter. At least driving would be warmer on my toes, which by then, I figured, I'd have to fish out of my socks when I removed them.

I put on a pair of dry boots and warmer gloves, then grabbed my car keys, purse and a leash and headed out to the garage. When I opened the garage door, there, just calmly sitting on the other side of it was Wynter, her face covered with snow. I was so excited to see her, I screamed her name, which nearly made her take off running again.

Never in my life have I been so happy to see a dog.

Eden, however, wasn’t pleased at all. She greeted Wynter with a series of growls, as if to say, “I had the whole place to myself for a change, and figured I’d be getting your share of the dog food from now on. But no, you dumb jerk, you had to come back! I was smart enough not to run off, so I should be rewarded for my good behavior by getting all of the treats. You don’t deserve any!”

Tomorrow night, the weather forecast is for a wind chill of about 30 degrees below zero. Nothing, and I mean nothing, ever could force me to leave the house in weather like that.

Do you hear me, Wynter?

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Sally Breslin is an award-winning syndicated humor columnist who has written regularly for newspapers and magazines all of her adult life. She is the author of several novels in a variety of genres, from humor and romance to science fiction. Contact her at: sillysally@att.net