I’ll admit, I’m especially fond of winter. True, it’s always cold, and just about everything with a brain goes to sleep for a while, but it’s easily the quietest season. I like quiet. I can think when it’s quiet. Or I can take a good, long nap. The Crags are especially pleasant today – the ground cold under my feet as I move over them, the frozen air pungent with the smell of stone. There hasn’t been any snow yet, but I can feel it coming. I always look forward to the snow, and winter never lets me down.
The only trouble I have with the winter is that it becomes increasingly difficult to find water amongst the rocks. There isn’t a lot of moving water here, and the shallow pools I frequent just fill with rainwater during the spring. Easy to find, but easy to freeze. I’m not particularly thirsty this morning, just making my rounds to see what’s available, but I’m a more than little disappointed to find that my favorite place has already succumbed to the falling temperatures. I like to swim here during long afternoons, then I like to watch the turbid water churn on itself while I dry on the sun-warmed stones.
That’s not happening today. Nothing short of disaster could push me into the frigid water. I do, however, test its solidarity with a paw. I press my calloused pad against the ice, listening hard for a crack, waiting for it to give. It holds. I raise my head and glance around, making certain that there’s nothing more important going on, and then I take a real step out onto the glassy surface, leaving only my back legs sturdy on the rock. Again I wait and listen. Again it holds.
Emboldened by my success thus far, I move my entire body out onto the ice. As I leave the easy tread of the ground, I feel my grace begin to fail me. My claws don’t grip here, my pads don’t grip here, and my feet threaten to slide out from under me. I sink down with all my weight, ignoring the urge to panic and flail against the unfamiliar, and that steadies me somewhat. From here I’m not sure what to do or where to go, but I know that lifting a paw will send me reeling. Instead, I scoot one foot forward, then another, building a little momentum, and gradually work my way to the other side of the pool. I’m smiling to myself as I climb back onto the ground, and give my coat a shake. I have to say, I’m pretty pleased with myself. But what else is new?
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