wild

It's late morning. I'm sitting on the couch, rubbing Henry's chin and asking him seriously if he's feeling a little wild today. On the floor are the remains of an indestructible penguin toy. I thought I'd picked up all the stuffing but no, tufts of white remain scattered on the floor, the carpet, the couch. Just a few minutes ago, we went out for our second walk of the day. My normally obedient walker was jumping in the air, grabbing his leash, doing zoommie circles around me. I took him to the dog courtyard at the Edge so that he would leap and lunge freely and he did. Again and again, but as my fingers began to freeze in the guaranteed-to-be-warm-but-are-not fingerless gloves, I had to cut his romp short. Still, we walked, he played. What more could he want! 

What he likely wants is to show me his wild side. His untamed free spirit. His youthful vigor and impishness. And who am I to deny him his own unique expression of joy? But oh my, it takes a strong hand and a unwavering patience to deal with a Henry who has discovered the pleasures of snow.

 

Having gone to bed a tad too late, being rather old-ish, and still having a slight cold, makes me a poor candidate for expressing to my pup my great happiness at having him here. Especially at 5:55 -- his greeting time this morning. 

The snow storm, predicted to begin at night, actually arrived at 6 a.m. It's not one of those beautiful ones where fat flakes quickly create a thick puffy quilt of snow. The snow is icy and constant. Henry, who is this year new to a northern winter, takes a moment to process it all...

Making sure that the world has not otherwise changed, apart from this interesting shower of white stuff that surely is falling for the sole purpose of a pup's enjoyment!

I give him time to sniff it out. A good half hour walk. In the dark.

And now, finally, it's time for a hot shower and breakfast.

Yes, Henry does nap then, but by 9, he is ready to go out again and this time, his whole pup self is more than ready for it.

And he does his wild scamper and I just try to remind him that the leash means he is under my control. Of course he grabs at that little inconvenience. Of course he does. After all, there's snow. He can do anything! He is Henry and he is alive and life is so good!

This is when I take him to our dog courtyard, where he is allowed to let loose his FRAPs (that's the scientific name for what he is doing: frenetic random activity periods). 

And only after we return inside, and he has begged for all the treats he can get out of me, after destroying one toy and lining up the next candidates by the window, does he again settle down for a late nap. 

(total contentment, his and mine) 

 

Only to want to go out again, a third time, just before noon.

 

There's no question in my mind but that he needs a dog park. Penni Klein is the closest. Yes, there's a blizzard, but surely they will have kept the highway open, and it's only one exit away. 

It is slow going. A six minute trip takes... many more minutes. And I hesitate at the park entrance. That's a mighty long driveway, and it obviously hasn't been plowed. I leave the car on the main road and we set off on foot. Henry likes pushing through the snow and I would have perhaps liked it more if I had proper snow boots on. Well what does it matter. Wet socks will dry. We persevere.

At the dog park, he is thrilled to be set free. There are two other dogs cavorting near the entrance, neither of them especially friendly, if you take their growls and yaps seriously. Henry takes them seriously and backs away, happy to walk the "path" just with me.

 

 

I suppose only nuts like Henry and me, and the occasional dog owners who can't stand to have their dog growling and barking at home would make it out to the park on a day like this. 

 Oh, but Henry loves this snow event!

 

 

We don't stay too long. I'm concerned that the car will get snowed in. I don't have a shovel. Not even an ice scraper. Poorly prepared!

We push against the wind and make our way back to the main road. Wait, where is the main road?

 

 

 

In the end, I'm glad we went. Henry and I have a date with the younger family to help trim their tree. Yes, my wild one is going to participate in that sacred tradition, that one that requires the greatest delicacy and care. Better to go when he's had his fill of outdoor romps.

We set to work on the tree and yes, the dogs keep their crazies down to a minimum. Of the three kids, Sparrow has always been the most dedicated decorator.

 

 

 

The other two help as well, with breaks for being cute and playing with the dogs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And with important breaks for all of us, to munch away at the cheeses and snacks prepared by my daughter. And yes, Henry is at the table taking it all in and hoping against hope...

 

 

 

The tree survives. Dogs, kids, all of it!  Better today than yesterday, when one of the kids pulled at it (by accident) and it toppled down to the floor, all 9.5 feet (nearly 3 m.)  of it. 

Oh, how regal it is! So big! So beautiful. 

(traditional song)

(traditional picture)

 

And then Henry and I hurry out. At least I am near houses with people who have shovels! Still, it's snowing hard now and no, these residential streets have not been plowed. Why bother when the snow will continue for many hours still.

I am very relieved that I live less than 5 minutes away. Well, a good bit longer tonight, but we made it!

(Henry, near the Edge) 

 

 

Wild weather! Really wild! No wonder my sweet and loyal dog does leaps and twists in the air. If not now, in this early and frankly beautiful snowstorm, then when?

with so much love...