Snowdog
It's still snowing as we go out to have our morning drag around the block and this dog, oh yes, this dog, she loves the snow. After we've made faces of distaste and tiptoed through the melted puddles beneath the building overhang (because this dog hates the rain), we forget we're 15 going on 16 and *bound* into the drifts. Belly deep and high stepping as mommy tries to slog delicately along the tire-tracks, we stop every 2 feet and in a daring move, jam our face vertically downwards directly into the snow. Snuffle deeply (and make no mistake, if there's food under there, we find it), fling errant fluffs everywhere before bounding another 2 feet to repeat the maneuver.Mommy watches affectionately, walks along another few feet, and turns just in time to see us walk smack-dab into a parking meter. We stagger slightly and realize that we've got so much snow piled up on our snouts that our eyesight is severely impaired and deduce that we must shake our head repeatedly before bounding over to mom to have her wipe our face off.
We glare over at the funny looking man on the snow moving contraption who seems to be laughing at us, deciding it is not worth our precious playing time to attack, and flounce off to continue the diveandsnort mission.
November 19/2003