Observations about snow might appear a little naive to some. I'm not unfamiliar with it, afterall. But it has been a while since we've had snow to return and stay, so let me a little ramble.
Snow changes things. Stepping outside in the night to take Mollie outside, you reflexively look up because the faint reflection is different.
The snow blanket, by turns, makes things more quiet and makes any sound more pronounced. And I get the whole conception of there being all different kinds of snow. There was wet, sloppy snow last year. There's been dry fluffy snow this year, followed by hard, crunchy ice-covered snow that's rigid enough to (mostly) hold my dog up as she wanders around the backyard, searching for her familiar landmarks.
And standing outside, waiting on my dog, a breeze kicks up. As it skates across the ice and snow, it chills the air. All of a sudden, I'm too poorly dressed. That's another piece of it all. Gloves and layers and jackets have to be planned. Inside, curtains have to be pulled and faucets dripped.
When I had two dogs, I was constantly worried how short-haired Mollie would handle being a rocky mountain dog. They were both part of my home and while I felt Petey would thrive, I figured she'd struggle in the winter months. And for an honest assessment, I don't mean the winter will always be Mollie's favorite season. At the same time, she doesn't hesitate to go out in it. Each time she goes out, she learns more. She adapts to the changing terrain under her feet.
Like Mollie, I'm going to pass into new frontier (when it's time), without a buddy. As a result, I'm probably moving more slow than I would with encouragement. But that's okay. You can even learn lessons from pets. I can adjust to the terrain too. I can do better for the weather.
Bring it on, snow. I've got your number.
--Laura
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