What is it about snow that brings out the adventurous athlete in us? I prefer to run and jump and roll around in it. James chooses to snowshoe, ski, and sled. Okay, so his type of sledding isn’t exactly the type with Bob in front of it. Still, it gets him outside to have fun, and that means I get to go with him – except when he goes skiing.
Yes, the operative word here is FUN.
Now some canines – some hum drum canines I know – don’t like the snow. They fly south for the winter like the birds. Sure, they don’t have a choice since their families are the ones doing the driving (their paws won’t reach the peddles), but because they spend the winter months in places like Florida, the Islands, and the Keys, they’ve never grown to appreciate the benefits of the winter months in a cold clime. I’m here to tell you that there is nothing – and I mean nothing – that compares to the enjoyment I have in the snow. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know sun rhymes with fun, but it’s the snow that I love.
Maybe it’s because I have long hair – at least most of the time – that I don’t mind the cold weather. Maybe it’s because I was born in a cold clime and spent my first year in one. Or just maybe it’s because I know how to have fun – there’s that word again – in the snow.
It is interesting that I was frightened of some things when I was but a wee lad. Considering that one would assume I might have been frightened of the snow the first time I saw it. But, no. It was nothing like the white rock that seemed odd to me. It was nothing like the yellow pipe that stuck out of the ground and confused me. And sure, it was nothing like the clear, wet rain that fell from the sky. To me it was more like the leaves that fell from the trees. The flakes were things to be chased and, like the leaves, caught, and then forgotten once they melted in my mouth.
Then again, James kept telling me not to eat the snow. I couldn’t figure out why since it was like drinking frozen water. But it was the yellow snow he didn’t want me to eat. Now, that I can understand.
The thing about snow in Vermont is that it lasts from November until April. It’s even been known to snow in May, but not since I’ve been here. Now six months of white – the roadsides are quickly gray – takes a toll. Every time we venture out I get small snowballs between the pads of my paws. Now imagine having an extra large marble stuck between your fingers and toes while trying to walk, much less run and jump. Yeah – that’s what it’s like.
Thank goodness for James. When I collapse and stick my paws in my mouth trying to remove those spheroids, who do you think comes to my rescue? Yes – James. (A treat! I wasn’t even trying for one, simply stating a fact.) He’ll bend over and inspect my paw. He’ll then take his gloves off, even in frigid cold, and work the snowy orbs from between my pads. I’m then able to continue in comfort for a while. As we continue on, still more snowballs collect between my pads. Believe me, it can be frustrating.
But here we are at the beginning of the snowy season, so I shouldn’t be complaining. I should be rejoicing. And I am by sharing one of James’ poems that he wrote about me and snow. Here it is for your reading pleasure:
I’m proud of you at six months
puffing out your chest as you
move onto the snow covered grass
your excitement shows
in a solo tango you perform
and the gurgling laughter
we can ever so slightly hear
prancing as if Rudolf through the snow
in an abundance of excitement and joy
the fluffy snow flies around you
as if you were truly a reindeer
about to take flight
running back on the driveway
the crystals settle behind you
leaving random patterns
as in a crazy quilt
your long Old English Sheepdog hair
that covers your feet
releases the clinging snow
and leaves powdered paw prints
like the tops of cupcakes
the icing on our outing
multiple mini snowballs
append to the hair on your legs
and between your pads
you nibble away at each
as if they are flavored slushy’s
this was the first of many yet to come
and it’s a good thing you favor it
since there will be more
and I will find great pleasure
in hiking and snowshoeing
through the depths with you
If you’ve been following me along every two weeks, you would have seen an earlier poem about the impressions I’m leaving in James and Ron’s lives. This poem has another example of the impressions my paws make in the snow, and it reminded me of that poem. If you missed it, you’ll be able to find Impressions here.
Which reminds me that the fun we are having is not something we experience alone. It is to be shared. Otherwise it’s only having a good time. Truly pleasurable times are shared with the ones you love. Yes, I love James and Ron. (Score! A double treat for me.) BTW – James says he loves me too.
So, I have to admit, I would never trade anything in the world for the time I spend with my two daddies. I do believe I’m one of, if not the, luckiest canines in the whole wide world. [Time for some hugs and kisses.]
Return, if you will, in two weeks and find out how such a simple thing as paper could draw my attention. You might think it’s the crinkly or crackly aspect that makes me interested in it. You might even think it’s the texture that has my taste buds salivating. Come back and find out.
Speaking of finding out, we’d love to know if you’re enjoying reading about my first year and the different poems James wrote. If so, let us know in the comment section below. I always like to hear from you, so please feel free to leave me a note about this or anything else that’s on your mind.
Until next time,
Sir Oliver of Skygate Farm (you can call me Ollie)