On our descent from the summit, I glissaded (slid) at least 300 feet (to below the first clump of trees) before calling for Al to follow.
No Al. No dog! I called. I used his Emergency Recall word. Where was my dog?! He was out-of-sight behind the ridgeline. In growing panic, I climbed at top speed all the way back up (FYI, this is REALLY HARD) to get the little sissy.
Admittedly, the first part was steep, and he was out-of-practice. Soon, he was flying down this kind of terrain with a grin even bigger than usual.
Watching my dog romp on mountain snow is one of the things I hope to remember on my deathbed.
Kids, don't try this at home! The avalanche danger was high just the previous week.