The Cold and the Panther

The Cold and the Panther

         The cold was bitter. Before, it was just irritatingly cold; now, it cut through his thin layer of clothing and chilled him to the very bone. Dan rubbed his hands together and tried to blow warm air onto his fingers; however, he couldn't tell if it did any good. His breath was as cold as the howling north wind which caught him off guard over eight hours earlier.

         It began very routinely. Max started pestering him about a half hour before sundown. It was 6:30 P.M. then--about an hour later than his normal time for a walk. The black Lab was spoiled. He insisted on having a morning walk and an evening walk every single day, come rain or come shine. Moreover, Dan had become used to the routine and actually looked forward to these outings with his dog. Over the years, man and dog formed quite a bond; it was no secret these walks were the basis of their relationship. It was during these walks Max learned to respect Dan as the leader of the little pack whose nucleus was Dan and his wife Linda.

         Therefore, when Dan finally put his work down and succumbed to Max's promptings, there was no question they were going for a walk. After all, they walked in rain and cold many times before. Unfortunately, Dan was unaware the weather bureau issued a winter storm warning for his area only moments before they set out on the trail. It wouldn't have made any difference. Max and Dan were both accustomed to the trail and knew it took only forty-five minutes to complete the familiar two-mile circuit. What could happen in a short forty-five minutes?

         Almost immediately, Dan regretted not grabbing his heavy coat-the one he wore earlier that morning on their sunrise trek-the one with his cell phone tucked in the front pocket. Instead, he zipped the thin coat up to the top of the zipper and pulled the collar up to discourage the winter wind from blowing down his neck. He stuck his hands in his pockets hoping his gloves were hidden there; they weren't. His only choice to keep his hands warm was to leave them in his pockets.

         On the other hand, Max was oblivious to Dan's discomfort. His luxurious thick coat of winter hair and a layer of fat, the product of Dan's lavish feeding, served as excellent insulation against the winter weather. The Lab wasn't overweight; rather he was just well stocked. Max loved cold weather; it invigorated him. He chased imaginary squirrels up trees and occasionally terrorized a few real ones.

         When the snow began falling, Max was not distracted by the fluffy clumps of white winter wonders wafting to the ground. The snowflakes bonded together in miniature natural snowballs, moist and heavy. And, although they were moist in the relative warmth of the air, they did not melt as they ended their journey to the ground; rather they clung tenaciously to the branches of the trees and the grass along the trail. It was a sure sign the temperature was dropping rapidly.

         Mindful of the deteriorating climatic conditions and somewhat concerned they not be caught in the open as it worsened, Dan briefly considered turning back and going on home. However, Max was so enjoying his romp he decided to endure the discomfort a little longer and let the black Lab play. Soon they would be at the midpoint of their walk and they would be heading home anyhow. Already though, the ground was disappearing under the increasing onslaught of the winter storm, which was very unusual for north Texas. The familiar landmarks were changing shape; and known reference points were becoming disguised under an increased thickening layer of snow.

         The fading light of the quickly terminating day coupled with the heavy overcast sky worked in tandem to cast strange shadows across an otherwise familiar landscape. Therefore, it was no surprise Dan missed the turn which usually took him back home. Under normal conditions, he would trudge along a short distance before he noticed his mistake and then backtrack until he was once again on the trail home--but, not tonight. Tonight he wandered on up the trail increasing the distance between him and the warmth of the hearth waiting at home. Instead of warming his chilled hands at his fire, he winced against the assaulting snowflakes smashing at his face and dropped his head in an attempt to deflect the chilling wind cutting at his cheeks.

         Max was now trotting along beside Dan. He abandoned his folly with the squirrels and determined instinctively it was needful for him to remain near. He occasionally stopped and glanced over his shoulder in the direction of where they should have turned back, only to resume his position with Dan and continue down the errant path. After all, Dan was the leader and he was faithful to Dan's leading.

         Just a short thirty minutes after they began their walk, the storm was unleashing its full fury and firmly establishing its hold on the landscape and anything else caught out in the open. The wind whipped relentlessly; and gusts caused Dan to lean into them to keep from losing his balance. The snow continued to spread its blanket of wintry white across every exposed surface. In the comfort of his office, looking out the window, Dan could appreciate the storm's amazing beauty. However, he was experiencing it from a different perspective and missed the gentle beauty. It was falling with a fury he never before witnessed.

         He stopped his useless journey for a moment and carefully surveyed the setting. Terror quietly rose to place its own icy grip on Dan's heart as he realized he had no idea where he was or which direction he was heading. North was confused with south and east had no bearing on west. The whiteness of the storm totally disoriented him. The irony of the situation crashed down upon him; he knew this place, damn it! He knew it was just a short walk to his urban community of 35,000 people. How in the world could someone get lost in the middle of an urban area? In one of those directions out there, just a short walk away, was the comfort of his house. He realized also if he chose to continue in the wrong direction, he could wander deeper into the timber of the adjacent forest.

         And then they heard it. Over the noise of the wind blowing the trees, it pealed in faintly but very clearly. Dan and Max froze and turned toward the sound. It was there for just a moment--just once. It sounded like a scream. At least Dan thought it was a scream. Dan looked to Max.

          "Did you hear that, boy?"

         The hackles on Max's back rose perceptively. They did that when he was uncertain of a situation, such as encountering a stranger or another dog. It was likely a sign of insecurity; but, at the moment it confirmed to Dan he heard something. Who could be screaming in the midst of this storm? Should he walk towards it? Should he try to help? No, he decided not to wander further from the roadway. When he got out of this mess he would report what he heard, if in fact he had heard anything at all. The pressing thing now was to get out of here and to get warm.

          "Max! Come here boy!"

         Max cocked his head to the side and raised his ears to the alert position. He trotted over to Dan and sat down obediently in the snow, waiting for Dan's next prompting.

         Dan kneeled in the snow next to his dog. "Max, fella, we got a problem. Dad's lost. Let's go home, boy. Home Max! Go home Max!"

         Max sensed the concern and urgency in Dan's voice. He knew the word ‘home.' But, he did not understand the command to go there. The dog whined and trotted down the trail a few paces. He surveyed the trees and looked for squirrels. Is that what Dan wanted? Was he to find the squirrels? They played that game often. But, Dan had not said, 'squirrel' he'd said ‘home.' Confused, Max ran back to Dan and again sat down.

         Dan considered his situation. He definitely was not walking in the correct direction. To continue on this course would certainly compound his error. He decided to follow his tracks back down the trail from which he just trudged. At least he could follow the trail as long as he could see the tracks. However, the heavy snowfall was hiding them with amazing quickness. Easily discernible imprints of shoes and paws were turning into rounded depressions in the new snow. Soon they would be indistinguishable-harder for Dan to find; but more importantly, impossible for some rescuer to use to find them.

          "Come on, Max-this way!"

         Max fell into pace with Dan, lifting his legs high in a sort of prance in order to navigate through the deepening snow. At last, they were heading back to the place where he knew they would turn for home. The heavy snow continued to fall-so heavy that it resembled a white sheet waving in the wind, rippling to the earth. The urge for Max to bound into the white mantle was checked by his more urgent need to remain with Dan. His instinct told him there was a crisis; he had gleaned that from Dan. As a result, his overwhelming urge to protect kept him at Dan's side. And so it was the bond between dog and man kept them together. One was lost and confused; the other was not lost--simply faithful. As a result, they both wandered aimlessly in the storm.

         As he walked Dan pondered the sound he heard, trying to convince himself it really happened and trying to remember how it sounded. In the back of his mind a story surfaced. When he was just a kid the old folks would tell tall tales around the hearth on cold winter nights just like this. And once, when he was on a camping trip with his Granpa, the old man told him a story about a panther. He said deep in the wilderness there were cats the size of mountain lions and black as coal. They were solitary cats which hunted their prey with surprising agility and cunning. They had no fear of man but chose to avoid them. However, it was known that a panther would stalk and kill a lost hunter or hiker. And if the prey were injured, they would drag them off the trail never be seen or heard of again. But, the chilling thing about them, besides their lethal actions, was their cry. The panther screamed. His grandfather said it sounded like a woman's scream. Was that what Dan heard-a panther? Surely not-he reminded himself those were just country legends. No one in this region had ever reported seeing or even hearing a panther-at least he didn't think so.

         Dan continued to follow the tracks which were steadily disappearing before them. Carefully he retraced the earlier path by placing his feet as best he could in the original track. As he did, he failed to see the branch lying hidden across his trail. As he lifted his foot to take a step, his shoe caught the branch and hung there. The momentum of his body carried him further down the trail; his foot remained tangled in the branch. Off balance, he felt himself tumbling to the ground. To his surprise, the blanket of snow did not cushion his fall. To the contrary, he felt excruciating pain course through his body. Prostrate in the snow, the only thing of which he was aware was the pain. He reached his hand to the source of the screeching, knifing pain; it was somewhere beneath his knee. Amazingly, he felt a protruding stick against his leg.

          "Where'd that come from?" he thought through the cascading peals of pain.

         He raised himself to a sitting position, enduring the stabbing pain of that action. He forced his eyes to focus on his leg. Sticking out like a broken pencil was one end of his tibia. It was a jagged, pointed bone-he realized it wasn't a stick against his leg; it was his bone. He knew there was no way he would be able to walk on this. Every movement sent spasms of pain to his wounded leg. He laid there a moment and let the pain subside; and then considered what he must do. There was no way to even attempt to set the broken bone and stabilize it. There were a few sticks near him but he had nothing to secure anything to his leg and in any case, there was no way he could set the bone with it protruding out of the meat of his calf.

         Max nosed the broken bone and whined; he realized something was terribly wrong. He ran around Dan in a circle looking down the trail and back to Dan; he barked as if to say, "Come on try it. We've got to go."

         At that moment, Dan remembered the leash dangling around his neck. He rarely used the leash. Occasionally he would leash Max when they met someone who did not know the dog. It was more for their comfort than to control Max. People just felt better when a new dog is under control. Dan took the leash from around his neck. He managed to forage a broken branch that was about two feet long. He placed it against the broken leg and secured it in place with the leash. He pulled the collar from Max's neck and with considerable effort fastened it around his leg and to the top of the stick. It appeared the makeshift splint adequately supported the broken leg.

         Dan was sweating with the effort. Every movement he made caused the wound to scream in pain. He also noticed the temperature was dropping rapidly with the onset of night. He assumed that surely the wind-chill would drop the temperature to single digits by now. The moisture abandoned the falling snow. It now cascaded in sheets of single flakes mixed with sleet. Nevertheless, the onslaught of snow did not decrease; it just changed its form. The intensity of the storm surprised Dan. This was Texas, storms like this were customary for Montana not Texas. He glanced at his watch and was surprised to see four hours had passed since they began this walk.

         He knew he had to try to walk, regardless of the pain. He rolled over on his stomach. Slowly he rose to his hands and knees. The pain in his leg coursed through his body and he began to shake; but he remained on his hands and knees. Eventually the pain subsided and he was ready to try to get to his feet. With a bold rush, he brought his good leg up to his chest and pushed up. The pain shot through him again but he was standing. Resting with his weight on his good leg, he attempted to take a quick step forward. Immediately the pain flooded over him and he tumbled to the ground. He shook from the pain and sweat beaded on his brow. He felt lightheaded and the whiteness faded in and out as shades of gray. He fought to remain conscious. Eventually the pain decreased to a throb. He was wet beneath his clothing. In this weather, he knew that was not good.

         There was nothing Max could do to help. The dog ran back and forth, circling as Dan attempted to rise to his feet and walk. When he tumbled to the ground, Max ran up to Dan, licked him in the face, and then barked nervously. Although he knew the way home and could be there in a few minutes, he was not going to leave Dan's side. As Dan fought to remain conscious, Max circled close to him and whimpered. Dan took notice of the dog and reached out for him. His hand found Max's soft coat and was instantly warmed by his touch.

         "Come here boy." Dan focused on his dog and repeated, "Max, com ‘ere."

         Dan was conscious that his speech was slurred. He focused again on Max and called to him, "Max, boy! Com ‘ere to me."

         Max moved closer to Dan, who wrapped his arms around the dog. Dan began to shiver uncontrollably. He recognized the symptoms of hypothermia and buried his face in the coat of the dog. Dan snuggled with his back against a bush heavily laden with snow. Max curled up like a body pillow as Dan pulled him closer against him.

         "Goo boy, Max. Sombod will com and fine uz, sombod will com."

         The wind continued to howl; the snow continued to fall relentlessly. It was eight hours since they had left the house, four hours since he had broken his leg. Dan hovered near unconsciousness. Trying to keep his mind busy but losing the battle. He tried counting backwards from one-hundred and lost count at ninety. For some reason, there were no numbers less than ninety. His mind just kept repeating ninety...ninety...ninety.

         Out of the blackness of the winter night and much clearer this time the scream again pierced the cold. On cold winter nights it seemed sound travelled with uncanny ability. There was no way of knowing if the source of the scream was a mile away or just yards away. The only certainty was this time there was no doubt he heard it. Max's hackles rose along his back again, but this time the dog emitted a low growl as he carefully studied the blackness of the night. There was something out there and it was closer, much closer.

         Dan huddled on the edge of the trail as the frigid seconds marched on. Had he been able to see his watch and discern the numbers, he would know he and Max had been lost in the storm for ten hours. The temperature plummeted well below freezing. Dan's only hope was to cling to Max and try to force himself to remain conscious. He repeated over and again, "Doan sheep, Max. Doan sheep."

         In the darkness of the early morning, the storm relented. The quantity of snowflakes lessened and fell with less intensity; but each gentle flake still added to the white mantle spreading across the landscape. Suddenly, Max lifted his head, perked his ears, and again the hackles rose along his back. Something was out there. Dan did not notice in his semi-conscious state. He certainly heard nothing. Max rose to his feet, disengaging from Dan's grasp.

         "Max, what ish it boy?"

         Dan attempted to focus on the darkness, blinking his eyes and shaking his head to clear it; but he could see nothing. However, Max did. Again he emitted a low growl and then in an instant, Max was off running into the darkness. Dan heard a single bark and then lost all perception of where his dog had fled. And then he was alone, with the snow, and the cold, alone.

          "Max!" Dan called into the darkness. "Max! come!"

         The loneliness of the night pressed in upon him. Max was his only security, his tie to hope. As long as it was the two of them together, he felt there was a chance. Even in his incoherent condition, at least he was not alone. A lonely cold tear crept from his eye and tracked its way down his face.

         He whispered into the night, "Max, come back."

         The wind bit at his ears and his nose. The pain in his leg was numb now. As long as he didn't move it, the pain was masked by the cold. He lay back and closed his eyes. He knew the snowflakes were gently falling on his face, but he could not feel them. He opened his eyes and could see breaks in the cloud cover. A star shined through. It seemed as solitary and lost as he was. He wondered if it were lonely. His hands trembled as he cupped them together and tried to blow warm air into them. There was no more warmth left in him. He felt as cold as the snow-covered landscape. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a fitful unconsciousness.

         "Over here! I've found him! Over here!"

         A number of padded forms ran toward the announcement. Tenderly, gloved hands lifted Dan and placed him on a stretcher. He was covered with an insulated blanket and carried a short distance to the clearing. Soon the sound of rotors slapping the cold winter morning air was heard overhead and the medi-vac helicopter landed to claim their patient. Briefly, Dan regained consciousness long enough to catch a glimpse of his rescuers; he also looked for the black Lab; and then he was out again.

         Slowly he opened his eyes. It took a while for him to get his bearings. The IV bag and the heart monitor were his first clues he was in the hospital.

         "Morning, sleepy head" Linda smiled and spoke softly.

         "Hi"

         "It's about time you woke up. It's been twenty-four hours and I was beginning to think you were gonna take advantage of the insurance company's hospitality." Linda smiled at him.

         "Where am I?" was all Dan could say.

         "You're at All Saints. You've got a broken leg and a slight case of hypothermia, but luckily no frostbite. The docs say you ought to be OK."

         "What happened? I mean, how'd you find me?"

         "Well, the storm was so bad they really didn't start to look until it was clearing. We had quite a team of folks beating the bushes for you-all our friends, the folks down at the church, and the whole dang Rotary club joined the Sheriff's department and looked for you. We found you about five miles from the house."

         "Where's Max?"

         "We don't know, Dan. He wasn't with you."

         "Something was out there, Linda. Max heard it and went out after it."

         "Dan, we found you by following his tracks to you. But that isn't all they found." Linda paused, unwilling to continue.

         "Go on; What else did you find?"

          "Well, we're not quite sure. About a quarter mile from where they found you they found tracks of a dog and some sort of cat. We suppose the dog was Max. However, the cat's paw prints were about the size of coffee saucers. The deputy said it must have weighed around 200 pounds. They also found blood and Max's choke chain."

          "Max went out to meet it. We heard it last night. It was coming to us. Max went out to meet it--dang dog!"

          "Meet what?"

          "Well, I think It was a panther. Max and I heard it scream. My Granpa said there were panthers in those hills. I never believed it. I always thought it was some sort of old tall tale."

          "Dan, I'm so sorry about Max. But, you can be proud of him. He gave his life for you."

         Dan smiled at Linda, "How do you figure that? What makes you think that blood is Max's? I think we need to wait a little while. He may show up yet. That old black dog has a way of getting out of scrapes. But, in any case, you are right about one thing. I am proud of him. He's a good friend. And, I've got a feelin' he and I haven't taken our last walk together. Although, I don't think we'll be walking in the snow; nope, never again."