The first snow of the season had fallen. It was time for our morning walk, to sniff the air and the scents, to stretch our legs, and to take care of business. When I opened the front door, a cool breeze entered the house. Mickey lifted his chin, took in the white surroundings and decided he wanted nothing to do with it. I convinced him to at least walk down the steps. That brought him to the closest bush. After lifting his left leg, he immediately turned around and sat at the door. Waiting… Henry, on the other hand, loves the outdoors, snow or not. He took off into the bushes, tiptoed in the snow and returned when he decided he’d had enough.

Later that day, we were all a bit more used to the temperature and the bleak colors around us. The snow was soft and fluffy and not slippery at all; perfect for a quick stroll in the neighborhood!

The summer camp bordering “our” property drew us in for some exercise the following day. It was incredibly quiet, spacious and white! While Henry shoveled snow with his nose and jumped around, Mickey involuntarily scooped up layers of snow with his belly hair, while happily running on his short legs. Soon, he was weighed down and icicled. We carried him back. He enjoyed the cold snack stuck to his underside for the rest of the afternoon.

A day later, the weekend arrived and the humans had more time to go for a decent walk. The mercury was well above freezing. In fact, the snow had begun to melt. We only had had to plow the walkway once so far. Spring temporarily arrived, for one day. Mark and I loaded the dogs in our car, on a white sheet and took off towards the river. The idea was to find the Appalachian Trail and hike in the woods, but soon the consensus “why drive along this quiet road, while we can walk” determined what happened next. We let the dogs out and walked them off leash along the river. The more they progressed in the mucky mess of melted snow and mud, the less recognizable (read: dirtier) they became. Mickey’s white fur turned black. “Somebody is getting quite messy”, as a runner appropriately pointed out.

Did we bring a towel to clean the dogs off (paws, and other body parts for the little one)? No! Could we rinse them in the icy river? No! Huh… We obviously had no experience with small dogs, who walk in mud, being so low to the ground. We turned around and made a valiant attempt to clean Mickey’s underside with leaves and both dogs’ paws with Kleenex…

Dirty? Who?Me?

We never made it to the Appalachian Trail. Instead, we ran a bath at home and turned our two sweethearts into the cleanest and nicest smelling pets in the world. We washed the paw printed whitish sheet. And… we put a dog towel in our car!