11/16/05 11:42 - ID#23314
Puppies first snow
The first snow is somewhat romantic; the possibilities of being snowed in with a bottle of wine and a cleverly used roll of duct tape, or looking at all the meat in your freezer and thinking of a rugby team on the top of the Andie's.
Other times it is like a first grey hair, or getting glasses: you can see the inevitability of growing old, precious youth falling away with each flake; only to be shoveled and cursed at, or turning yellow as someone writes their name in it.
But this was something quite different. Ben, the dog I have with (e:Jim), had his first snow with us (he is only eleven months, so probably his first time playing in it ever). He is a dog of a Canadian breed, so he likes the snow, and presumably Bacon. Watching him frolick around in it with the sort of vigor one normally sees in a less slothfull dog was a treat. Juxtaposed with the maudlin, melancholy earlier description of the coming of winter you would think I would have come to some life-changing conclusion about the cycles of life and the wonder of child-like discover. Instead, all I have learned is that it is easier to see dog poop in the snow.
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