Winter, Me, and the Dog

The snow blew violently in my face and tried to lift the hood of my coat off my stocking capped head. The dog pulled on his leash and jogged to the nearest tree trunk, forcing his owner, me, to jog behind him. He lifted his leg and marked the base of the trunk while sniffing for his next target.

Even though the sun was out, the wind chill was still below zero. There were various drifts around the sides of the house that the dog plowed through, dragging his reluctant owner through one high enough to trickle snow down into her hastily thrown on boots. He didn't care. His foot pads were layered with fur and his undercoat had grown in thick. Only his wet nose seemed in danger of frostbite. But he had his owner, and this sunshine, and this cold wet stuff to sniff and pee on, and life was great.

I made the dog return to the shed where his kibble was kept and scooped up a serving. He sniffed below my elbow and I chattered something encouraging at him. He pranced beside me as I headed back to the warmth of indoors.