Making It Up As I Go Along #567

Schokee Winters

Ours was a stumpy dog.

Her West Highland legs only keeping her six inches above the land.  And with tangling wisps of fur down her sides, it would not be uncommon for those things of the ground to be carried along upon her underbelly.

In winter times, she would often return from the backyard with icy globs of snow hanging off of her.  Making her sides and belly like a beaded door of a hippy's apartment.

She was never much for a pause when returning from a bad weather day.  She'd fly through the door and want to scamper into the warm depths of the house.  Perhaps aiming for the carpet under the dining room table.  Maybe to run a mad lap or two, encircling the living room, dining room, front hall, and kitchen.

So she'd often have to be grabbed to a halt as she bounded into the sunroom.  And she'd wait in antsy fashion as you sat on the floor next to her, picking off the bits of icy snow as if they were burrs from fall bushes... clinging to sweaters after afternoon hikes.

There was an art to the picking.  A simple grab and tug would bring yelps of pain from her sooky mouth.  You'd, instead, have to try squeezing off the top of the snow.  Like pinching and twisting an apple off a tree.  Sometimes the snow would cling too tightly.  And you'd have to wrap your hand around each ball, bringing a quick melt to the situation, and then crumble the snow off onto the patio door mat below.

When enough was removed, you'd let her go.  And off she'd fly... a streak of white fluff with the clattering of nails upon the floor.  In later years, the flying streak would more resemble a jogging bathroom mat.  Sometimes she'd lose control when reaching the two small stairs leading from the sunroom to the kitchen, and the jog would halt right there... reset... and continue on sheepishly.

On stormy days she'd change her mind about trips outside.  Downstairs, she'd hound you to get up from in front of the TV and follow her to the door so she could do her business.  And, when the door slid open, showing the whipping snow as the winds howled across the yard... she'd stop... and sniff the cold... and sit on the mat for a minute... deciding she really doesn't need to go all that badly after all.

You'd force her out.  Tell her she needs to go.  And stand watching at the door as she'd leap and bound over the drifts, find her spot next to the shed, squat quickly... headlong into the wind so strong that her ears would blow back behind her.

In less than a minute her work would be done.  And the leaps and bounds back to the deck would have her scrambling for the door.  On those days, she'd much appreciate your consideration.  So a timed opening of the door would lift her spirits as the scramble would need no break... she'd continue on into the house... give herself a good shake... then wag her tail as she looked up at you... almost smiling.

Those times when you thought she'd need to take more time... when you'd venture to the refrigerator for a peckish look... she'd bellow to you with such a sharp yap of a bark that you'd quickly close the fridge and jog back into the sunroom.  She'd be padding down the door with one paw and, upon seeing you come, spin on the spot... doing a full 360 with excited relief as she anticipated the opening of the door.

On nice winter days, she enjoyed the outdoors.  And on days after a new, fresh powder had fallen, I couldn't help myself.  I'd scoop her into my arms and toss her out off the deck, watching as she'd splay out in mid air... before disappearing into the white with a frosty cloud lifting up into the air.

She'd then leap out from the crater her little body created.  Bounding through the snow in search of firmer footing.  And, when found, she'd turn and sneeze and pant with excitement.

Sometimes I'd shovel her lanes within the backyard.  One to her place next to the shed.  The wind always swept most of the snow away from that spot, so doing her business was easier there.  Another lane would go out towards the trees of the backyard.  I'd make a loop here and connected this area up with the side of the house under the dining room window.  This area was often sheltered from the wind and I figured it would be a nice little get away for her.

I'd cross the lanes, creating figure eights, straight aways for speed and blind corners where a little dog would not be sure of what lay just around the bend.

And once I was done, I'd go to the door, peak my head in, and call to her.  She'd come bounding up the stairs or you'd hear the thump of her leaping off a bed and along she'd come, happily wanting to see what the fuss was about.

Once outside, she'd sprint the snowy lanes of the backyard.  Wanting to see what was over here... and then heading on over there to explore that other end of the yard.  And, when she wasn't paying attention, I'd lay down in mid lane.  Hidden from her view I'd wait for her leaping exploration to come upon me.  Within minutes she'd reach me... hitting the breaks hard in the snow... stopping within inches of my face.  And with joy and excitement, she'd sometimes spin about and sprint off from where she came... kicking up snow in my face with the acceleration.  Other times... when she was getting ready for a break anyway... she's stop there next to me.  Jump slightly on the spot as she happily barked at me, and happily receive a rub on her back or under her chin from my mitted hand.

WEDNESDAY...

--- Dayshift. We learn of our new teams for January today too. I'm pretty happy with my matchup. 

--- Snowy day. Not many have been on the road in my neighbourhood when I leave. Maybe mine are the third set of tracks in the snow. And other roads are also touchy. What should be two lanes is one. And what should be three is sort of two and a half. In the end, about 25 cm falls. 

--- Shovelling after work is rough. Slept funny last night and my neck and shoulder are tight. Still, 30 min of shovelling straight from work and another ten minutes worth before bed. 

THURSDAY...

---  Still sore and stiff in the neck and shoulder. And that goes with a tight back from shovelling. I'm at work moving about like a Lego man. 

--- Cold out. Around -18 or so with wind. Still venture out to lunch with Shannon. 

FRIDAY...

--- Get some Wendy's on the way to work. And work is reasonable through the night. My back finally feels fine again and, by late evening, my neck begins to loosen. Shoulder is still half half though. 

SATURDAY...

--- When people show up to work at 4:15 on a Saturday morning... To work overtime... There is no other word to use other than loser. 

SUNDAY...

--- Lounge in the house after about four hours sleep. Go to softball in the evening. We win. I hit pretty well but have a few adventures in the outfield. Losing one ball in the doom's roof and having another hit on a line over my head. Doesn't hurt us anyway. 

--- Hate the silliness in hockey injury talks. Players never have a cold or flu. They have "flu-like symptoms". Same goes for concussions. "Concussion-like symptoms" is a concussion. Stop insulting our intelligence.

MONDAY...
--- A walk and lots of quiet time around the house.
--- Got stuff from Amazon today... not delivered via drones though.  Some good Black Friday deals were taken advantage of for Ken Burns Baseball, Deliverance on Blue Ray, and some flash drives for storage.

TUESDAY...
--- Out walking again.  Also a grocery run.