Snow Day

Walking Through The Snow

It snowed this weekend—a lot. In my neck of the woods, the total snowfall amounted to almost two feet which was great because I love snow and, in my view, the more the better. Of course, I am always concerned about my more vertically challenged friends like Mecki and his little brother Bastille in storms like this, but their Mom posted some videos of them playing in a shoveled out spot in the yard, so they seem to be doing okay.

I think perhaps the reason I enjoy snow so much is because it allows me the opportunity to unleash my wild and crazy side. Take this recent storm. When Ma and I went outside first thing yesterday morning after the blizzard was over I:

• bunny hopped around the backyard in circles at top speed (bunny hopping is the only way to get through such deep snow efficiently)
• located and ripped out a rosebush branch that dared to peek out from underneath the snow 
• did my business wherever I pleased. 

But hidden just behind these happy moments of frolicking through the snow and doing business wherever I saw fit, dark forces were brewing.

Balancing Snow On My Snout

Later that very afternoon, Sister and I went outside to play in the snow. After chasing me around for a little bit, Sister and I went our separate ways; I found a nice stick to chew on and Sister decided to build a snowman. Sister spent a lot of time sculpting the snow while I, having finished with my stick fairly early on, watched patiently from afar. Once the three layers of her snowman were built, Sister retrieved a scarf, a carrot, and a couple of walnuts (she didn’t have any coal) that she had brought out with her earlier and had left on the patio table. She wrapped the scarf around the snowman’s neck, but never got the opportunity to insert the eyes and nose.

You see, that’s when I pounced!

What's That Over There?

Sister's Snowman

Like a bat out of hell, I charged the snowman and, propelling myself upward by launching myself off of its bottom sphere, plowed straight into its head. The snowman’s head popped off on impact and dropped to the ground in one piece (Sister is obviously very skilled at making snowman heads). Wasting no time, I pounced on the head and immediately started pummeling it with my paws and breaking it into pieces with my mouth. Oblivious to Sister’s screams and riding high from the fun of beheading the snow creature, I then turned around and threw myself at the snowman’s torso. Digging like a fiend (my loyal readers know how much I enjoy “dig, dig, digging” on the mountains of snow my family build for me when clearing the driveway), I tore apart the snowman’s chest, leaving behind a gaping hole in my wake. Satisfied that the snowman was indeed dead, I ran down the driveway to bark at someone who had the gall of walking by my house. Sister remained behind, mourning her decapitated and disemboweled friend.

Covered In Snow

The remains of Sister’s snowman still stands in the middle of the backyard and, while I’m looking forward to going back outside to finish him off, I can’t help but wonder one thing: Whatever happened to that carrot Sister was going to use as a nose?