A Frozen Bean
I am a dog. My needs are simple. Food (not necessarily dog-specific food), a bed (actually three beds – one up, one down and one in the car) and exercise. In return I give total devotion and protection from the evil cat next door. Serious … it might look harmless but it’s actually extremely dangerous which is why I must attack it.
Today I want to tell you about snow. I did not ask to come to this place (which took what felt like my whole life to get to and, even though I am small, I was squishelled in the car so tightly that to move risked the whole thing bursting on the peage) but I really do like it here. I get to run around loads, I have discovered that I don’t mind getting wet and I rather like the snow.
Snow is white and it is very very sneaky. I never know that it’s occuring because I can’t see much from down here when I am in my house or in the car unless I stand on my back legs which I can do very well but I reserve the skill for getting attention and treats. Snow makes the world look completely different and is strangely inviting. Don’t be fooled though – it might look like a nice warm blanket but it’s actually very cold and when it blows across exposed places I have to close my eyes into slits which makes it tricky to see and also possibly makes even me quite unpretty.
The best sort of snow is crusty and I can walk on top of it. The worst sort is soggy and I can’t. Then I have to walk in the footsteps of my humans. His are best because his footprints are bigger and just the right size for me to jump in and out of. He’s quite often not here though so then I have to compact myself into hers.
Things smell different when it has snowed (they smell different when it has rained too – unfortunately you are only a human with a weak nose so you wouldn’t understand) and I find myself irresistibly compelled to dig in it – luckily my snout is quite gimlet-like and my paws are nice and pokey and nimble (which is why I can type) so I can make short work of digging a fine hole. It’s what I do. I am a dog.