Although I had to shovel the foot of wet snow that fell last night to make a path to the driveway, the chore ended up being a happy one because of my Christmas puppy, Mojee.
All of thirteen pounds now, and nine months old, this is her first winter. She’d been out in the snows, which amounted to only a few inches deep since Christmas, but today, she discovered just how deep snow could get. Drowning deep. I had a disappeared puppy.
Not to worry. With her usual enthusiasm, she had taken one giant leap off the kitchen porch’s deck into the new snow. The shock of the depth had her with her nose in the air, looking very bewildered. Then she struggled to make another leap, and failed. A few seconds of doggie thought and she wiggled and squirmed herself around, then made the three feet distance back to the path I was shoveling.
She delighted in running up and down the path I was carving out to get to the driveway. She’d take off from the kitchen porch deck, race to me, turn around and race back to the porch. Of course, she jumped the steps. And then repeated the run.
When the path was finally done and I called her to go into the house, my dust-mop of a dog looked like a fuzz-ball of snow that her wagging tail and happy-go-lucky smile couldn’t phase.
It’s the little things, and little puppies, who eradicate the woes of winter and reminded me of how much fun snow can be.
I think I’ll go make a snowman.