Pondu

There was an unusually hard frost

I’m staying with my brother in Somerset.  First thing in the morning, I take Moss out for a walk.  There’s an unusually hard frost and it’s bright.  It’s my favourite weather ever, it makes me feel glad to be alive.  It’s exhilarating to see a new horizon, especially one with Glastonbury Tor in background. 

The frost accentuates everything and sharpens the sound.

Moss can be off the lead most of the time; I’m sure she approves of her new-found freedom.

Gradually I’m discovering new walks.  I’m walking about a mile and a half away from home, each day I’m getting a little bit further.

I’m talking on the phone with my friend Joey.  It feels faintly sacrilegious because it’s such a beautiful day to be savoured, and not polluted by mobile phones.

We’re making plans for 2026. 

Moss is running ahead of me.  We walk past a pig farm; it’s bubbling with life, sounds and smells. 

Moss is barely out of my sight … when I hear a cracking sound.

I run towards the sound.

I arrive at the scene: Moss has discovered a pond and she’s run out onto the ice.  She’s light, only 15 kilos on a good day.  The ice must have held her weight, until suddenly it cracks under her feet, and she is plunged into freezing water, a distance from the edge.

Now she is desperately floundering.

I say to my friend,

“This is serious.  I’m putting the phone down please stay on the line.”

I clamber over the hostile barbed wire fence positioned between the path and the pond.  It is vicious with its barbs.  I have to get to Moss.  She’s not a swimmer, yet, her instinct is to try to get towards me. 

The ice shatters around her.

Instinctively I know that this pond is deep with steep edges.  

Moss is wearing her harness; I’m hoping that I can get hold of it and haul her out.

She lurches towards me.

I’m leaning out and holding onto the barbed wire fence to steady myself.  I’m able to grab her harness and haul her out, first time. 

The water is stinking, stagnant and freezing.  It’s the colour of dark green velvet, when it’s wet.

I haul Moss out and she’s on land again.

I’ve rescued her.  

She skitters off into the frosty landscape, running and shaking herself vigorously.  Occasionally she throws herself onto the ground and rubs her whole body into the frozen grass.

I pick my phone up and talk to my friend letting her know that the emergency is over. 

She has waited. 

I thank her.

AJK

31.12.25