Of Snow and Doggy Wisdom

It is snowing outside.

I remember when I was small and used to think snow was thermocol – that lightweight thing D and her mom used for school projects. But now I am older and wiser, and know that snow is that cold but beautiful thing that paints the world white. It also makes people want to stay indoors, cover their feet in fleece blankets, and drink hot cocoa.

Not me though. Given a choice, I’d like to gambol in the snow, make snowballs with my paws, and lie down in the sheet of white. But to be fair, I have a built-in coat of fur that humans don’t. I don’t mind the biting Austrian winter at all.

I wish D would take me outdoors for a run so I could see what the neighbourhood was up to, especially that cute brown Pomeranian across the street. But D seems lost in her world, thinking faraway thoughts that my doggy brain doesn’t want to ponder over right now. She loves the snow too, D does, and looks at it lovingly from the window. When we are outdoors, she feels it with her fingers. Once, she also made a little snowman and used a small carrot for his nose. I didn’t fancy the snowman much; he gave me the creeps. D was upset when he melted away in the morning.

She seems upset today too. She hasn’t talked to me at all in the past hour, not even patted my head absent-mindedly.

I woofed to her sometime back, “Why are you sad?”

That made her smile. “I cannot explain it, Tim,” she said, and ruffled my fur.

I don’t like it when she says she cannot explain something. Am I not intelligent enough to understand the deeper thoughts of a human brain? I know many of D’s friends giggle about her attachment to me, and tell her I am only made of stuffing. Well, they don’t know…stuff! I am a smart doggie. I just wish I could talk to D in human language and tell her I understand everything she says. But alas, I can only speak Woof. So, I decide to do the next best thing: I curl up at her feet, voice some gentle woofs, and lick her toes.

It is still snowing outside. But we…are…almost asleep.