debacle, n. A sudden, utter disaster. From the Fr. debacler, to break through the ice.

The dogs and I all went through the ice yesterday afternoon. It was as close to death as I've come on this property. I took the dogs for a walk, and we wound up down at the stream that empties the pond. Our Jack Russell, Mo, led the others out onto the ice before I got down there. When I got there I was worried. The day was warm, and I thought that the ice might be thin near the open water at the dam, where the stream's velocity is greatest. I called them back at once.

Too late. First the puppy fell though the ice. I knew that if a 35-lb. puppy on four big feet broke the ice, a 200-lb. man on two feet
certainly would. So I crawled out to him on my belly, put a hand under his butt, and pulled him up onto the ice. Then Mo went through, and I snaked over to him, but the ice under me gave way and I was in the water. I threw Mo up onto the ice with one hand, and tried to get myself out, but there was nothing to grab. I took out my Swiss Army knife, opened the big blade and stuck it into the ice, and using that as a handle, pulled myself up, threw my left leg up onto the ice and rolled over onto my back.

Our big mutt Paco was breaking himself a really big hole by the time I squirmed over to where he was thrashing about. He wouldn't come to my side of the hole, perhaps frightened even more by the panic in my voice. Finally he swam over to me and I heaved him up, but our combined weight broke through and I was in the icy water again. I stood on the bottom and pushed him up with both hands, and he walked away to the shore, shaking water as he went. I tried to heave myself up, but the ice kept breaking ahead of me. I was breathing hard, and as panicked as I've been in years. There was no one within a quarter-mile to hear a cry for help, and if I'd had my cell phone with me, it would have been soaked and useless. Mo stayed with me at the edge of the hole, looking really worried. I took out the knife again, pulled myself up, and slithered to shore.

Back at the house I stripped off all my soggy clothes on the deck, dried off the dogs, and got into the tub. Once I'd warmed up, and once my hands and feet stopped stinging, I got the smaller dogs and put them in the tub until they stopped shivering, soaping them up so they wouldn't smell like pond water. Then we all toweled off, I built a fire in the cookstove, and we all warmed up.

I accepted long ago that life is a crapshoot, and that any minute the bottom can fall out no matter how secure we might think we are, but here was yet another reminder, a beautiful afternoon turned in an instant into a life-or-death debacle. True, I didn't have to go out on the ice, but watching my beloved dogs freeze and drown simply wasn't an option. Once again I'm glad I carry a good pocket knife.

The dogs and I are alive and well, gentle Reader, and waiting for the spring.