HardFrost

Sailor here. This morning, Mom and I did some driveway obedience followed by driveway cuisine. At Time To Leave For Work, she called me to join her and we walked out the front door and down the walkway together. In the driveway, she gave me the Down command. Then she left me and ran back into the house.

I practiced my Honor Down. I practiced so hard I started drooling. I don�t like Mom to leave me and disappear. She returned several hours later, telling me that I was wonderful to hold my DownStay for ten whole seconds. I silently but politely disagreed. Who was she kidding? I did my Honor Down for more like ten whole years.

When she returned, though, she was carrying her briefcase and a water bottle and a newly harvested apple, preparatory for a trip to work. As she lifted her briefcase into the trunk, the apple, in a fit of adolescent rebellion, leaped from her arms and landed with a soft thud on the asphalt. It then proceeded to roll under the car and lodged itself right behind the rear tire. At first, Mom didn�t notice. I was doing such a wonderful Downstay that I couldn�t bring myself to break my concentration to tip her off about the apple.

Mom soon discovered the apple�s disappearance, though, and bent down to search.

�Drat,� I heard her say under her breath since she could not reach the round red fruit.

I thought about crawling under the car to help with my long nose, but remembered my DownStay responsibility and said nothing. I did drool a little, though, despite myself.

Mom opened the car door, explaining (needlessly) that I was to stay Down while she slowly backed the car down the driveway to uncover her apple. I downstayed. Mom backed. I was expecting all manners of disaster, but Mom was very skillful in reverse and uncovered her apple without a mishap. She retrieved it, put it in her pocket and then released me and put me in the back yard.

I watched her leave through the bars of the wrought iron fence.

Well, the asphalt was very icy from the overnight frost, and just as Mom reached the driveway to climb back in the car, she slipped. Her feet went every which way. Then she fell right smack onto her side. Crunch! Applesauce on the driveway, applesauce in her pocket.

I waited for expletives to be deleted, but Mom was so skillful at deleting them that I couldn�t hear one word.

�Drat,� I thought, �I�ll not learn any new words today.�

After Mom had cleaned herself up and rushed off, late to work, I sat under the maple tree and contemplated the wonders of winter: the frost on the grass, the puff of condensed breath that gusted in front of my face with every exhalation, and Mom�s applesauce, slowly freezing and gone to waste on this winter morning.

Sailor the apple of Mom�s eye