Reba

Reba was a yellow lab. She was our third dog. I always felt that Reba didn't appreciate us. She seemed to have an air of defiance that often made me wonder about her.

One freezing cold winter night, I heard her. Reba was somewhere out in the woods and she wouldn't quit barking. Finally, I asked Gary to check it out. Soon, he was back in the house shouting for us to come. Apparently, Reba was caught in the icy river, her front paws up on a sheet of ice, while her back paws were trying to gain leverage on the river bottom. And her cries were becoming fainter and fainter.

She was out of our reach, so Gary dragged our canoe down the snowy hill and used it as a "pier". I held one end to steady it while Gary and Leslie got in to reach for Reba at the other end. Megan held a flashlight beam on her so we could see and Jami anxiously waited on the bank with blankets. Somehow, they were able to pull a shivering Reba into the canoe and back to safety.

We trudged into the house, exhausted and cold. The girls were all emotionally drained, and our traumatized pet was allowed to sleep in the utility room that night. The next day she was as good as new and I do believe she had more respect for us than she had before. I guess coming face to face with mortality can give you a fresh new outlook on life, even if you are a dog.