I have a couple unhappy posts in the works, so how about another nice one first

Two weeks ago while jogging along Beach Drive in Rock Creek Park, I rescued a dog. Like serious "Rescue 911" dramatic rescue. It was awesome.

I was running north on the trail between Porter/Klingle and Tilden/Park when I heard the dog yelping. There he was, stranded on a little rocky outcrop on the other side of Rock Creek trapped by a steep icy cliff on one side and rushing, freezing water on the other. The poor little guy was barking up a storm. He tried climbing up a couple times only to fall back down and just barely stop himself on the rock. In addition to the snow and ice of the past week, there had been a lot of rain in the previous 24 hours, so this dog was also unwilling and probably incapable of swimming to safety.

I had no idea how the dog wound up there. Perhaps he fell in further upstream and managed to save himself on the rock before he froze to death. Or more worrisome to me was the possibility that he had fallen down the cliff and injured a leg or worse in the process. And since the heavy rain had just ended less than half a day ago, I was also concerned about whether the creek level was still rising.

Another jogger also stopped and we crossed the bridge just upstream and walked back down to the small cliff. However, once she realized that it was impossible for either of us to climb down the steep, icy, thorn covered rocks, she decided we would just have to call for help. I did not like the sound of that since the dog seemed pretty desperate. I was worried that the dog would soon end up in the water one way or another and drown or freeze to death, especially if he was already injured.

So I went back upstream to an easier entry point, took my shoes off, and just walked right into the swollen creek. Once the water got above my waist, things suddenly seemed fairly serious. And freezing. Fortunately, it was not so deep that I actually had to swim. But the thought did cross my mind that I could be in some real trouble if I lost my footing on the slippery rocks and hit my head.

As it turned out, the dog was not injured. His name was Avi and he was a rambunctious 10 or 11 month old adolescent. His owner, a GW student named ?Jesse or Josh?, also came by the area less than 10 minutes after I carried him out of the creek. So the dog probably would have been okay even if I had done nothing. Yet I still felt pretty damn good about going in for him. Especially when I got the feeling back in my toes a half hour later.