Frodo here. I am moving. To Florida. I felt I should let you know. For all of those readers who delight in our snowy photos, I am here to inform you that snow is not all that it is cracked up to be. At least a certain “type” of snow. The type that has a rather high moisture content – which humans refer to as “wet snow”. True, it is perfect for creating snow persons – which provide an excellent peeing target. But…snow that works well to create snow persons also creates snow balls. On fur.
The other morning we had such a variety of snow. We had not yet had a visit from the gentleman who does our plowing. Which means I had not yet had the opportunity to throw myself in a frenzy against the front door which I do while he is releasing us from our snowy enclave. Despite the lack of plowing, her highness announced that the beatnik and I would be going up to the road to get the paper. Now all of you who live in less moist climates are envisioning dogs who joyfully leap into the frozen, milky colored wasteland. And of course, we did. However, that jubilant initial response lasted all of 25 feet. We were not even half way up to the road, and I suddenly weighed 10 lbs more. The beatnik doesn’t seem to have as big a problem – probably because he doesn’t sport a long fluffy coat. His feet were not suddenly the size of footballs.
Her highness realized my plight and said we could go back -as soon as we got the paper. I would have preferred that the two of them leave me and continue the journey without me- but she insisted that it wasn’t “that far.” Perhaps I should tie 40 lb bags of frozen peas around her ankles and let her experience my agony. I trudged to the road and promptly (as prompt as one can be while suddenly weighing twice as much) turned for home. Meanwhile, the beatnik was leaping up and down- racing back and forth across the driveway in sheer joy. I just glared at him.And to make an already agonizing situation worse- two guesses what her highness said on the way back down. If you guessed “It sure is hot out here”- you are wrong. She said the two words frequently heard on a morning walk. “Hurry up.” Hurry up is not a reference to walking speed. It is a command to poop. Like we don’t know that we should poop on our morning walk. Mind you, sometimes Brother Viktor did need the reminder.
Well. Just TRY to poop when you are sporting a snowball coat. By now, snowballs were not just on my feet – but in places that were even MORE uncomfortable. Every time I tried to “assume the position” those snowballs tugged at certain areas of my anatomy- which was VERY uncomfortable. The beatnik- who had happily jumped into the snow and left his telltale trail of poop (which had settled into the snow), just looked at me with fascination. I grumbled as I tried to produce SOMETHING. Finally after several false starts, I was able to produce. We continued on our journey back to the house – with me getting heavier with each step.
I was never so happy to walk into the front hall. But then, to add insult to an already horribly injurious situation, her highness announced that I needed to “come into the garage.” Great. Now what.
She took me over to the tub and somehow lifted all 100 lbs of me. Imagine my horror. A bath? Could this day get any worse?
But no – she simply ran warm water over my snowballs in an effort to quickly melt them. Meanwhile I was doing the bathtub hop – where I go back and forth every time water hits a limb.
The beatnik gave me a happy smile as I emerged from my baptism. Not funny. Not funny at all.
Two days after the “wet snow” we had “cold snow.” A LOT of cold snow. The fluffy variety that is useless if attempting to make a snow person. So that should be better you might assume. Fluffy snow means colder temperatures. And you know what that’s like? Like walking on fire. Suddenly even the beatnik was limping.
Yes. I am moving to Florida. Or Texas. Or Mexico. Her highness better keep those pockets full of treats. Or she is going to have one very constipated dog….
Have a good one. Peace and paws up.