I honestly can’t remember the last time I was in snow. Wait, now I remember; it was 1998. Just after Halloween and before Thanksgiving in Connecticut. We’re talking about 18 years. Wow.
This time, it was pretty cool. So many things were working in my favor for this snow. It began on a Saturday morning at my house, just before 8am. That gave me a window of opportunity to run out and grab a few necessities, just in case things got heavy. Just necessities. You know, mixers for the booze, some snacks … simple things like that.
Then, it was time to break out the camera and document everyone’s first. Like the dogs, of which I have 4. Not one of them had experienced snow before and I couldn’t wait to see their reactions.
The Rottweiler was a piece of cake. She acted like she’d known about this stuff her whole life and was just into doing her thing, quickly and lady like, and getting back in the house. It was no challenge for her but she didn’t want to be bothered. She could take it or leave it and, by her reaction, she’d rather leave it.
The Shiatzu was gung ho. Even though the snow eventually was completely up to his belly, and in some spots over his entire body, he leapt, galloped and forged his way through, quite happily. He was the first one to venture out through the entire yard, much to my surprise.
The Pitbull was like a kid at Christmas. After his initial apprehension, tentatively trying to figure out what this cold, wet white goodness was all about, he was wide open. He figured if the Shiatzu can do it, what am I waiting for? Then he was off; tearing through the yard like his tail was on fire, running laps like a track star, jumping like a dear, just embracing and enjoying every moment. He’d do full body rolls, tunnel, then pop his head up and look to make sure everyone was paying attention to him before he would body shake it all off, then he’d begin his next great adventure. Happiness personified.
The Labrador, he was something else entirely. He was the uber tentative one. He’d paw at the snow, first with his left then with his right, at all times the wheels in his head turning, trying to figure out what in the name of all things holy this frozen rain was all about. Then he’d lick it like an ice cream cone … in fact, for an inordinate amount of time. To the point where I was concerned he may actually be the first dog of the year I’d have to take to the vet for frostbite of the tongue. Finally, he’d bury his face in it as if to sniff out all the answers he’d been trying to ascertain. In the end, he still couldn’t figure it out and ultimately decided he wished nothing further to do with any of it, and demanded a path be created for him, expediently, before he would do any further business in our backyard winter wonderland. There’s always one, right?
And there I was, documenting the whole thing on film. My wife thought I was full on insane in the membrane, but doggone it, I wasn’t going to miss this once in a lifetime opportunity to document my “kids” first time experiencing snow. 4 different dogs, 4 different personalities, 4 different reactions. What a good time it was.
Upon further review I think I agree with my wife. I believe I am insane.
Posted at 10:40am on January 10, 2017 by Matt Monks