Labradoodle & Goldendoodle Forum
Friday we were supposed to get snow. In Pennsylvania when the weather forecasters call for snow, everyone and their mother runs to the store to buy milk, bread, and toilet paper. I had an excuse, however, to be up at the store buying the same things and it had nothing to do with the weather. I really was out of all three. Trust me when I say if I thought I was going to be snowed in for a long period of time my grocery list would include ingredients for baking cookies, frozen pizzas, and Tylenol, in case I had to beat my head against the wall if the power went out. When my turn came to be checked out, the check out guy decided I looked like a nice lady who would enjoy hearing his life story. I learned he was from Puerto Rico and hated snow. He didn’t like walking in snow, looking at snow, seeing snow fall, and it all stemmed from a time when he happened upon some black snow. He actually asked the check out girl next to him if she could carry him to his car and her expression said, “how did this guy get a job here?” I always get sucked into these conversations even though I tell myself not to say a word and just nod once or twice, but somehow I ended up telling him I love everything about snow. I suggested he should have moved to somewhere other than Pennsylvania if he had such an aversion to snow and just to give him something to keep him up at night, I added, “watch out for yellow snow!” If my husband were there, he would have mouthed, “keep moving, Chatty Cathy.”
Well, it seems I may have spoken too soon in regards to loving everything about snow. I guess I realized if I had taken the time to delve into all my feelings about snow since getting Fudge and Vern, I would have probably still been there at closing time and somehow finagled into carrying the guy to his car. As much as I love snow, my dogs love it even more. When the snow starts to fall, I want to be inside watching it, baking cookies, with my PJ’s and slippers on. Nothing makes me happier than snuggling up at night in bed with my warm flannel sheets and a good movie knowing that there is a beautiful blanket of snow outside. Fudge and Vern have very different ideas about what makes snow wonderful. They want to be out in it, tearing through it, eating it, rolling in it, and most of all, playing in it together.
They are like two kids in a candy store not knowing what to get into next. This is a lot of fun to watch for about an hour and then I want to be back in my house romanticizing about the beautiful snow as I sit bundled up inside. My visions of my dogs quietly snoozing by my feet as I gaze out the window at the falling snow, while sipping a cup of hot chocolate, has so far not happened. Instead they watch me and hover over me in the hopes that I will decide to don all my winter attire and head back out again. If I so much as walk in the foyer for a forgotten anything both of them line up at the door and give me their best pleading look.
Walking them in the snow up at our local park isn’t a walk in the park either. Vern is convinced he can eat all the snow in front of him and alternates between walking upright and bobbing for snow. He also likes to make Vern angels along the way.
Fudge tries her best to avoid Vern’s flailing legs and locate a place to go to the bathroom, so she can kick back enough snow to build a snowman over any evidence she leaves behind. If I could remember to bring a carrot, coal, and a corncob pipe, I could finish her snowman to perfection.
Mostly, I am trying to remain upright and avoid ice. To help me in that matter, I went ahead and ordered some new snow boots from a catalog that I received in the mail. They were waterproof and provided better traction, but unfortunately upon arrival, deemed the ugliest boots on the planet by every member of my family, including me, and promptly returned. In fact, when John saw the Velcro closure instead of laces, he said I would be the envy of all the women up at the retirement home. This isn’t the first pair of shoes I have gotten that he has poked fun at and the ones I came home with from the Podiatrist office he took one look at and asked me if I had come over on the Mayflower. I guess comfort matters to me above all else and if that means I walk around like an aged Pilgrim, so be it.
Today, we had 57-degree weather and instead of snow we now have mud. I wonder if the check out guy hates mud as much as he does snow. Even though the snow illuminates our yard like a spotlight at night and the dogs can see every critter passing by in the night, I still miss the snow. I guess it is true what they say; you don’t know what you’re going to miss, until it is gone.