I'm NOT Outdoorsy

I grew up in the rural suburbs, on ten acres of land, but I'm not outdoorsy.

Yesterday, I took my dog over to my parents house to help acclimate their dog, Zoe (who is fearful, anxious, mean, and old), to my pup.

This is their second meeting. Daisy did great again. Zoe was leashed the entire time and would growl and snap at Daisy every time Daisy got close. But Daisy constantly was testing Zoe's boundaries

My dad thought if we walked them around the woods, maybe that would help Zoe trust Daisy more.

There's a lot of snow out there. First Daisy and I were blazing the trail for the old man and old dog. Then we switched. Then we switched again. The snow was just below my knees. We hadn't even gotten very far, when...

Step. It was up to my waist. I yelled. Dad laughed.

Then, I realized I was stuck. My boot was sucked in to mucky, muddy, swampy, icky something underneath.

In my struggle to get my boot/foot/leg loose and keep the dogs apart, I got my other boot stuck. But there was no freeing it.

I acquiesced. I pulled my foot out of my boot, but the snow avalanched into the vacant hole.

I tried digging. Daisy tried digging. Dad stood laughing (and kept Zoe away).

There was no rescuing it. Not without a shovel (and without the dogs).

So in one stocking foot, I walked back to the house. My sock, ankles, and pants covered in snow and mud. My non-booted foot stinging with cold.

Dad went back out with a shovel and rescued my waterlogged and mud-covered boot.

The boots are still drying and need a good scrubbing.

What did the entire adventure teach us? I'm NOT outdoorsy!