The Great Skating Disaster of 2012

27 December 2012

Our first skating day of the season at last! We woke to a sharply cold morning. Would the pond have frozen by now? But answering that question would wait. There were things to do inside first. I hesitated about what to wear (some things in Spirit really aren’t that different from earth, at least for visitors), eventually opting for knitted tunic and skirt for the time being.

Downstairs, the first thing to do was tidy up the debris from the furries’ Christmas day. We’d looked at it the night before and decided tidying up could wait. Now we sat down, laughing at the sheer mess, to smooth out the paper and repair the rips, something that doesn’t need sticky-tape over There. Once it was all flattened and bundled again, I put it away upstairs, and went to the spare bedrooms to look over the back garden. It was a sight to evoke all those glittering white winter wonderland cliches: snow and hard frost everywhere.

“It’s hard frost out there,” I said when I reached the kitchen. “Surely the pond will be bearing by now.”

“It should be,” Louis said, putting plates on the table.

For once I did the cooking, splitting eggs into the frying pan and tossing in some sausages and bacon rashers. Louis dealt with the coffee, and we had time enough to get in a kiss or two between checking pots or pushing ingredients around. Katie meanwhile had arrived, jumping onto the table and squeaking out some little noises, which weren’t much more than the sticky noise of her lips parting.

“Cats put such effort into making the tiniest sounds,” I said. Maddie’s just the same – lots of squeezing her substantial belly, plenty of squinting, but seldom more than a squeak emerges.

“And yet they are always talking,” Louis answered, which is also true of both of them.

We sat down to eat and little Missy started making up to him like nobody’s business, doing her old trick of minutely sniffing his face, rubbing and kissing. Then she fanged his chin hard enough to get an “Ow!” in response. I suppose that was to show him he can’t take it for granted that he’s in favour either. Or something.

I was running quite late for work while I had these memories in Fawkner, and although I’d already rung to say I would be late – hell, they owe me a couple of hours – I wanted to get on with the main memories of the day, and skipped forward, something I’ve not really been able to control before. We’d changed to outdoor clothes, the same we wore the day before, and headed to the woods. Quadrille was with us. I’d called to him during breakfast, “Hey, Q, wanna come skating?” and received an affirmative “Arf!” in reply. More surprising was that Katie – Miss “you keep putting this white cold stuff on the ground to annoy me” Katie – came too, leaping primly through the drifts. I know leaping and primly aren’t words that usually go together, but that’s the only way I can describe it. She didn’t come out on the ice, but sat up tall on a log, looking at us through slitted eyes like a disapproving Egyptian statue.

Louis and I had a ball out on the ice, racing, whirling, chasing each other, dancing around. I remember the cold wind on my face and the hiss of the skates cutting the ice. We tried a Torvill and Dean type of manoeuvre once, where Louis spun, holding my hands, so I spun out horizontally. Alas, it didn’t work, and I ended up landing on my arse. It didn’t hurt, but as I said, it’s a good thing we don’t bruise over There, because I’d have been as purple as my knitwear.

Katie did come out on the ice eventually, but not to try her paw at it. I challenged her, saying if a dog could do it, so could she. This argument didn’t impress her, but she deigned to ride on my shoulder. I remember her soft fur blowing against my face, and the vibration of her purrs. She wouldn’t admit it, but she was enjoying it.

Q was quite the dancer as well. He must have played on the ice by himself last winter, after being introduced to it, because he was much more sure of himself. Unfortunately that was his – our – downfall. I don’t know what he was trying to do, but he misjudged his timing while Louis and I were doing a pseudo waltz. I was leading, Louis skimming backward as we circled, and Quadrille darted behind us. We weren’t moving all that fast, but Q is a solid fellow and having him bash into the back of your knees … well. Louis fell flat on his back and was winded, I landed in a heap on top of him and Katie leapt off my shoulder in a flurry of tail and claws. She paused only long enough to belt Q across the muzzle before she ran off in high dudgeon. Q fled in doggy guilt and confusion and Louis and I were left gasping for breath, less because of the fall than because we were laughing so hard. That seemed to bring the day’s skating to an end, so we took ourselves home, talking about how body oil rubs might be a good idea for our poor abused selves. We did do that, along with soaking in a hot tub, and ended the afternoon with mulled wine in front of the fire. It was an eventful sort of skating day, but not one I’d like to copy in every detail here!