Since Wally has been otherwise distracted and can’t seem to find the inspiration to write, I thought I’d get my paws on the keyboard and share with you a real life changing event for me in the last few days.
Not the movie about the fish; my tastes run to old Beethoven movies or the classic Homeward Bound when I need a good cry on the couch!
No, I’m referring to the recent snowstorm which blanketed the Northeast in the last few days…lord knows why it was named Nemo – but a weather person at the Weather Channel stated, ““Nemo is a Latin word, it means ‘no one.’”
That meaning is a bit “over my head;” but allows me a good segue to my story.
I should be used to snow. Although only two years old; I did grow up in Ithaca, New York where it snows 10 months out of the year, or maybe just seemed like it. To be fair, I was only exposed to one winter up there…but it made a lasting impression.
However, nothing would compare to Nemo’s arrival. In the last couple of years at Wally’s house, we’ve had a little bit of snow. Usually, a flake here and there, enough for me to sniff in the air and say “what’s this” and listen to Wally complain about how cold his ever-balding head is getting. Wear a hat, dude.
Last Friday, I took my usual constitutional walk outside at a little before 7:00am. It seemed like a regular day, nothing much cooking outside. I did my “business,” and stood and “stared into the abyss.”** After breakfast, my second visit outside was in pretty routine light snow, but what I now realize that it was the beginnings of a real blizzard!
My next excursion outdoors isn’t usually until later in the afternoon, and when I stepped out the door, my first thought was “what the frack is going on?” Remember, I’m from Ithaca, so that’s how I swear in case you aren’t old enough to hear those words. Was I dreaming?
Anyway, a winter wonderland had been dropped off at our house sometime during the day while I was napping. Huge piles of blowing snow everywhere, lots of it already on the ground and no sign of it stopping anytime soon. Tree branches where bowing down, covered in snow and my masters were out there trying to knock it off with shovels so the branches wouldn’t break off.
I pawsed (haha, get it?) to take it all in…it was then, that I started spontaneously “galumphing!”
Yes, galumphing is a word, and one that makes a lot of sense when you get inspired to leap like I did. Like a runner jumping over hurdles, I galumphed my way across the lawn looking probably more like a slightly overweight gazelle. They don’t teach you this stuff in puppy school, it just happens.
After galumphing steadily for quite a while, I realized that I was really out of shape and also had to take care of a little more “business.” Well, I’m here to tell you that taking care of “business” is a lot different with snow on the ground. We dogs are scent-oriented. It’s how we recognize our family, our masters, the enemy, and most importantly where we’ve gone, and where we are free to go. The first challenge, is finding somewhere, anywhere that smells familiar…not a possibility in this sno-pocalypse. Challenging.
Complicating this is that I’m a bitch (I can get away with that word, cause, you know), and so not a leg-lifter by regular practice. That preference presents a real problem in snow. For you two-legged creatures reading this…picture an ice-cold toilet seat that you don’t even want to touch with your behind. Yep, you got it….Bbbrrrrrrrrr!
But in the end, we’re adaptable animals who can find an answer to life’s most difficult problems pretty quickly…let’s just say Wally will have fun when the snow clears.
Feeling much lighter, it was back to random galumphing, until tiring and deciding to head back inside for a much-needed rawhide bone and nap on the couch…hey Wally, think Homeward Bound is on pay-per-view.
The best news (for me at least) was the snow was still there the next day; it wasn’t a dream.
So, from now on when I see a flake outside the window (no, not one of my family members, the snow stuff), indicating another mis-named historic blizzard is on the way…you can be sure I’ll be at the door ready to galumph my way to glory!
**my favorite line from the Grinch describes how I mindlessly stare for minutes