A Cautionary Tale M
Jeffrey Reel - Hartland, VT
y daughter and I lived in the Berkshire Mountains of Western Massachusetts with our five-year-old lab/retriever, Lucky. Lucky was more than a member of the household. He was family: gentle, sociable, intelligent, and my daughter’s best friend and companion. It was just the three of us, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Lucky was a stabilizing presence. Our home was located on a dirt road that ended at the shore of a lake. Our house was surrounded by summer homes and we enjoyed peace and solitude during most
20 4 Legs & a Tail
of each year. It was on an April morning when I took Lucky for his regular morning walk, and the day was typical for early April in the Berkshires: cold, overcast, and with a temperature hovering around 25 degrees. Spring comes late in the Berkshires. The last remaining patches of snow take refuge in the shade of houses and trees. All that remains of the lake ice is a thin sheet of glass. As was our custom on morning walks, I brought along a two-way radio, leaving the other for my daughter back at the house so we could communicate during the five-minute stroll. Lucky walked alongside me toward a stretch of woods near the shore. I heard, but took little notice of, two large Canada Geese standing along what would be the shore a few weeks from now but that was still hidden under a thin sliver of ice and a crust of snow. Lucky had always been intimidated by the geese – loud, aggressive birds – and his habit had been to safely watch them from a distance. This time, though, things took a sudden turn. Lucky suddenly bolted after the geese, which took off, flying low and slow over the thinning ice and out over the lake. I yelled for him to stop and, as he approached the shore and lake ice, I screamed for him at the top of my lungs, as if his life depended on it. But his instinct to chase was strong and he was unaware of the danger in his pursuit. He raced across the beach, then
Spring 2022
