There is something to be said for racing down a hillside as fast as gravity will carry you, legs churning and lungs burning; and there is something even bigger to be said about running down that hillside as fast as can be, in the snow.
It’s the slow burn of the steady resistance that the knee-deep snow creates against the muscles in your legs and knobby footing of your boots. It’s the way the snow feels as it gets kicked up in your erratic gallop, smothering the atmosphere in glitter and snow dust.
It’s the joy you get from allowing yourself to fall out of control, even for a moment, as you slip and slide down the snowy field, a giggling shriek emanating from deep within your chest.
And when you’re finally at the bottom, collapsing to the ground into a pile of cold cotton and feeling the effervescent spray coat your face as the glittery dust cascades back to Earth.
Yes, there is definitely something to be said.
Happiest dogs in the whole, wide world.
You are looking mighty fine!
I was hopeful, that after almost a full year as a mountain pup, Mayhem would grow into a dog who is at least tolerant of the cold. Alas, that does not seem to be the case and tolerance does not seem to be in Miss May’s vocabulary.
So long as the temperature is above freezing and it’s not actively raining or snowing, thereby mussing up her stripes, Mayhem enjoys romping through the snow; running at full speed and launching herself off of snow banks into piles of the fluffy white stuff. But the minute her head gets wet or her little paws get chilled, her romping quickly evolves into pitiful howls and shivers that wrack her body with their tremors.
This morning, with the temperature sitting at a crisp 4°, May flat out refused to go outside; opting instead to remain snuggled up with her bone by the fire.
She is a diva, I tell ya.