TulsaPets Magazine November 2022

November / December 2022 • TulsaPets 29 drawing me closer to it. It is my place for peace. I can close my eyes and remember all of my seasons. Of course, I always have a dog or two by my side. Teaching my children and grandchildren what beaver action looks like, how to cast a rod, untan- gle a line, hike while singing “the ants go marching one by one hurrah, hurrah,” gaze at clouds and pick out the animal shapes we see, roast a hot dog on a coat hanger, identify all the Oklahoma trees and the many reasons you don’t walk in tall grass or pick poison ivy…. The pond is full of memories, life lessons, humor, and many a tall tale. Ice Skates Spark Olympic Dreams One Christmas, I asked Santa for ice skates. Growing up with sisters, my gifts were often paired with, “Now share that with your sisters.” But somehow, I believed I could become the next Olympic figure skater. Back in the 1960s, Oklahoma had snow and ice storms and frigid tempera- tures for much longer periods of time. Our pool and pond would freeze solid enough to skate on. On Christmas morning, we three girls in matching flannel gowns raced down the bedroom hall to the den to fix our eyes on our beautiful tree and the presents. My mother was very creative and wrapped our presents so nicely they were too pretty to open. Well, almost. With excitement, we tore open our gifts. There they were. My very own ice skates! My future figure-skat- ing dreams were off to the perfect start. Now I just needed ice. I had to wait several weeks for the storm to come. Then magic happened. The snow and cold visited Oklahoma. We had so much snow we built elaborate forts and igloos. We lost electricity, lived and cooked by a fire, and the snow we had looked forward to became quite a problem. No school for a couple of weeks! My dad had a very heavy, long iron post. He would hammer the pole down into the ice to see how thick it was. When Dad deemed it safe, the three sisters started by skating on the pool but kept running into each other. The pond began drawing us in. It was just so pretty, almost a dream. Dad bundled up and took us down to a cove and repeated his measurements. He firmly told us we could skate only in the cove and no farther. We understood. The days of sharing my new skates and bundling up like a polar bear were a great deal of fun and exercise, although my ankles were killing me! Setters Set Off the Alarm The next day, the sun was out in full force, and the snow and bitter wind had ceased. My younger sister and I ventured out to the pond with strict orders to stay where we were told. Again, we agreed. We were laughing and skating when we heard the dogs frantically running and barking on the bank. That is when the realization of danger overwhelmed us. We were out too far — much too far. The dogs barked like that only when something was very wrong. We could always count on Spot and Chips. It was hard to think or hear over their noise. In unison, we both glanced down at the ice when we heard a “boink.” It is a sound we will never forget. We could hear water bubbling under the ice, and the water below seemed to be moving. The ice began to splinter. I yelled at Kellie to go to the nearest right bank, and I would go left. We needed to spread our weight out. My heart was racing. I was crying and could not catch my breath. I remember thoughts I had in my panic. If I fall in, these skates will sink me straight to the bottom. What do I do if she falls through? How will I get to her? I’m not sure how we got to the bank, but when we did, we scrambled to each other and cried. We were both shaking and sweating and had the kind of cry when you cannot catch your breath. We had to wipe our running noses with our long wool stocking caps with the big ball on the end. The dogs were still barking and licked us as if they were telling us, “You knew better than that.” I took those darned skates off and put my boots on. We cried more and wiped our faces in the dogs’ fur. In an attempt to be calm, cool, and collected, we gathered ourselves before going inside. We shed our gear and went to our rooms. We had a lot to think about and could not bring ourselves to talk about what had happened. For all of these years, that was one of my most frightening moments. I will never forget the sound of my dogs, the sound of ice breaking, and the realization that our lives might be over. There was no 911 dis- patch or even a fire station near our home. You had to dial an operator to locate help. It would have taken too long for anyone to help. We would have drowned for sure. I hung those skates up, and I don’t think I ever skated outdoors again. My fig- ure-skating dreams waned. My sister and I have shared this story with our children and grandchildren in hopes that they would remember our The Dugan pond is covered in ice and snow on the first day of a big winter storm. Ice covers trees surrounding the Dugan pond.