dogga must have known. he woke us up well before the sun: it was time for his breakfast, for our coffee, for him to go out and about in the backyard. but it was still dark and the sun still had some coming-up to do.
he must have known, though. somehow, in his dogga-dogga heart, he knew it had snowed. not a lot of snow, really, truly, just a little, a dusting. but snow, nonetheless. and snow is one of his absolute favorite things in the whole wide world. snow is his favorite season. snow is his glory.
so he must have known.
it is a bitterly cold morning as i write this over the weekend. i jump up to go push the heat up over the frost-zone mark. i am a frugal thermostat-monger. more layers, i think, more layers.
last night – after a long day of painting some vintage furniture and walls (yes, also technically vintage) we snuggled under a blanket with our (yeeesh – matching) red-and-black buffalo plaids and some thick socks to watch other people pick out homes on hgtv. dogga – rejecting the bit of heat generated by laying on the area rug in the living room – stayed on the sunroom’s tile floor. he could feel the cold building outside, i guess. temperatures dropping and his spirits soaring.
and he must have known, somehow, about the imminent snow. (which, by the way, turned out to be about 12″ (!!) here on the lakefront.)
because it was supposed to be blizzarding out right now, we are blogging ahead. it is not blizzarding out, however. it is raining and slushing and windy and is completely nasty out, but definitely not blizzarding. now, since you will be reading this on thursday and this is only tuesday, i am wondering will happen between now and then. the weather app says that it will all turn into snow at 3pm. and, as i look out the window right this second, a little snow is mixed in with the rain…so it is starting…maybe.
dogdog loves the snow more than anything. he is definitely voting “yes” for snowstorms and blizzards this winter. on the day i took this photo he walked outside and laid down on the deck, languishing in his bliss. he has been a snow-dog ever since we brought him home as a little puppy.
when we lost babycat to the other dimension i spent hours looking through my photos of him. i hoped i had all of his little quirks captured, all the things that made him the cat he was – on film. but we never really do get it all though. i wasn’t video-ing constantly or taking photos of his every move. and so, many of his funny quirks and the things we adored about him – this cat that saved me – are simply tucked in, in my memory.
and so, i am trying to capture a bit more with dogga. even his sweet pawprint in the snow. he is getting older now – an australian shepherd, he’ll be 11 this year – and he has some older-dog behaviors. like you, we are in love with our dog – just as we were with our cat. and, i suspect, like you, we don’t have any idea how this time has flown by so quickly. they capture our hearts immediately and time just doesn’t stretch out long enough.
the years of covid pandemic isolation/social distancing/loss of jobs/staying at home have given us concentrated time with dogga. and he just wants to be with us. it’s mutual. the look on his face when we leave for the grocery store is heart-breaking and the greeting when we arrive back home is magical and full-body, every part of him wagging – especially the infamous aussie butt-wiggle.
so this pawprint – in the snow and indelibly in our hearts forever and ever – and his tiny old-dog groans and a little slow-down – not to mention that look on his face anytime we leave – are tugging at us. he has been with us every day we have lived together, except for the first two.
it was during those first two that we debated dog-nodog-dog-nodog nonstop after meeting him across the state at a farm on the river road in pepin. driving the budget truck across the country to move d in, we stopped at the sign that said “aussie puppies” just to see. d assured me – though we had talked about a puppy ‘some day’ – that aussies are usually merle or tricolor and not black, which was our intended puppy-color-of-choice. thus we thought were driving up the long drive not likely to fall in instant love. and then, farmer don told us that he only had one puppy left and that he had no takers because he was black. one look, one puppy hug and it was all over. we left a deposit – which we told farmer don he could keep either way – and drove away with a decision to make.
and that’s when the debate started. it didn’t stop until two days later when we drove back up that long drive and this little black puppy came running directly to us, sitting down at the side of littlebabyscion. right then, we knew it was undeniable.
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there is nothing, weather-wise, that dogdog likes better than snow. he is invigorated by it. he’s not particularly fond of rain and he is definitely not a heat-wave dog. but snow is a different story entirely. when asked, “what’s keeping you in wisconsin? why wouldn’t you want to move to florida?” i have to answer, “the dog doesn’t want to live in a hot clime.” period. i mean, really – every summer – he suffers (cue up maria portakalos in mybig fat greek wedding – “she suffers” as i cannot write the word without hearing her voice.)
as i write this, dogga is at the end of the bed, curled up on the quilt, sleeping. he’ll be ten this year and that is astounding to us. he is slowing down a bit, sometimes acting like an older dog. but there is nothing that makes him seem younger than a good snowfall. running out, he eats the snow off the deck, licking it – like a sensational ice cream cone – as he goes. we look out the window to let him back in and there he is, curled up in the snow, covered in giant flakes, happy as a clam. snow is his gig. it floats his boat. it’s his cup of tea. it makes him happy, gives him the energy of a puppy, it’s his thing.
i wonder if we are as wise as this. our snowdog is not thinking about his reaction to snow. he’s not analyzing it or weighing its costs v benefits. dogga is not wondering if it will last or when the snow will melt, thereby rendering him snowless and less blissful. he is not asking when it might snow again, banking on the next time, forgoing some of the joy of this time. he is just out there, laying in it – full-out, napping, accumulating snowflakes like seconds of ecstasy. he’s fully immersed in something he loves, paying no mind to the rains of spring or the heat of the summer, unconcerned about the turn of the seasons. he is simply in snow and he is happy.
on island he gazed south. here, at home, he gazes north.
it doesn’t matter that there are inches of snow piles on the deck. ever the snowdog, he lays in it, relishing the cold, and gazes north. i wonder what he is thinking.
dogga is rarely still. he seeks the bark-back of other dogs in the ‘hood, standing in the middle of the backyard. he runs around the opposite-traffic-circle sign, around the pond, to the fence, then the other. scoping out, trying to get the attention of simply any other canine.
but there are those moments, in the middle of his self-initiated fray, that he is quiet and still and he poses, like the lions “patience” and “fortitude” flanking the front of the new york public library. “patience” and “fortitude” have been trademarked and are featured in the logo and all of the library’s marketing shenanigans. perhaps dogdog is the branding of our backyard, of our home. gazing north. or – simply – gazing.
for we, too, are gazers. we sit and ponder. we gaze and wonder. we watch the backyard change seasons as we change seasons.
the other day dogga was laying on the bed when i walked into the bedroom. i sat down next to him, his wagawag-tail thumping. i told him all the stuff i was thinking about, because isn’t that one of the reasons we HAVE dogs?
he listened. thump. listened. thump thump thump.
he did not solve anything. he did not answer any of my questions nor did he ask any questions. he did not agree or disagree. he did not argue for reason. he just listened. with patience and fortitude.
were i to lay in the snow with dogdog on the back deck gazing north perhaps i would also have more patience and fortitude in this season of time. at the very least, i would be in the best of company.
reverse threading 