OK, Wolfy, cinch up those Depends. Here we go again!
 
Back about six or seven winters ago, when I was still able to do such
things, Mee Maw and I decided to head up to Gatlinburg and do a little
skiing.  It was Tater's first winter with us so, of course, I insisted
that we take him along.  I grabbed his little harness, envied his thick fur
coat, stuffed his leash into my pocket, and assembled all the other stuff
that we needed some of and crammed it and us into the Geo.  Off we went.
 
We arrived at the slopes about noon and conditions were perfect.  Two
below, no feeling in our toes, basic numbness all over, one of those "tell
me when we're having fun" kind of days.  Tater was still a Georgia Cracker
ferret, with absolutely no fondness for snow, so I hooked his leash up to
his harness and started looking for a warm, dry place for him to occupy
while we plunged headlong down the mountain with slender sticks of wood
strapped to our feet.  (Yee Hah!)
 
Well, my eyes soon settled on Mee Maw's white parka that boasted two
oversized front pockets.  One of them was obviously large enough to hold my
emergency supply of Spam and the other was just right for a young ferret to
hide in and keep his feet away from the white stuff.  So I slipped Tater's
leash over Mee Maw's left wrist and gently tucked him into the pocket.  He
poked his head out and seemed to be having a wonderful time just hanging
out and surveying the winter wonderland around us.
 
Just as soon as we were all set for an afternoon of skiing, Mee Maw
complained that she was in dire need of a restroom.  I told her not to
worry, that I was sure there was relief waiting at the top of the lift in
the form of a powder room for female skiers in distress.  I was dead wrong,
of course, and the pain did not go away.
 
If you've ever had nature hit its panic button in you, then you know that a
temperature of 2 below zero doesn't help matters.  So, with time running
out, Mee Maw and I weighed her options.
 
I was becoming acutely aware of the intensity of her pain, and Tater was
even looking concerned, so I suggested that, since she was wearing an
all-white parka and ski pants, she should just go off in the woods.  No
one would even notice, I assured her.  The white would provide more than
adequate camouflage.  So, being the trooper she is, she headed for the tree
line, began disrobing and proceeded to do her thing.  Tater snuggled down
in the pocket so he wouldn't see anything that might embarrass his young
weasel self.
 
Now, if you've ever parked on the side of a slope, you know there is a
right way and wrong way to set up your skis so you don't move.  Yep, you
got it.  She had them positioned the wrong way.
 
Steep slopes are not forgiving, even during embarrassing moments.  Without
warning, Mee Maw found herself skiing backward, out-of-control, racing
through the trees, somehow missing all of them, and onto another slope.
Her derriere and the reverse side were still bare, her pants down around
her knees, and she was picking up speed all the while.  Tater, sensing that
something was very wrong, stuck his nose out and took whatever, I suppose,
was the appropriate action for a ferret to take in such a situation.  He
shrieked bloody murder and scrambled up the front of her parka and securely
snagged his front claws into Mee Maw's knit ski cap and his hind claws into
her scarf, and held on for all he was worth, completely hiding her face.
Every hair in his luxurious winter coat stuck straight out so he looked
liked he'd just been run through a dryer on fluff-dry.
 
Mee Maw and Tater continued on backwards, totally out-of-control, creating
an unusual vista for the other skiers.  They skied, if you define that verb
loosely, back under the lift and finally collided violently with a pylon.
 
The bad news was that she broke her arm and was unable to pull up her ski
pants. Tater sensed that their downward plunge was over, and he had
miraculously survived somehow. He retreated to the safety of his pocket and
refused to come out. He was no help at all.
 
At long last I arrived, put an end to Mee Maw's nudie show, then went to
the base of the mountain and summoned the ski patrol, who transported her
to a hospital.  I coaxed a trembling Tater out of his pocket and we
followed the ambulance in the Geo.
 
In the emergency room she was regrouping when a man with an obviously
broken leg was put in the bed next to hers.
 
"So, how'd you break your leg?" she asked, making small talk.
 
"It was the darndest thing you ever saw," he said.  "I was riding up this
ski lift, and suddenly I couldn't believe my eyes.  There was this crazy
bearded woman skiing backward, out-of-control, down the mountain with her
bare bottom hanging out of her clothes and her pants down around her knees."
 
"I leaned over to get a better look and I guess I didn't realize how far
I'd moved.  I fell out of the lift.  So, how'd you break your arm?"
 
Joy to the World!
 
Paw Paw
http://members.aol.com/emssandy/personal.htm
[Posted in FML issue 2972]