We put her on the living room floor where she promptly found one of the cats' toys—a small green ball. I rolled it across the kitchen floor, she chased it, brought it back and we've been doing that ever since.
Nine years of ever since.
Now Golds, as she is often called, chases anything in season—sticks sometimes, drops of water in summer, leaves in fall—but I truly believe her favorite is snowballs.
It's been very cold here over the past week so you couldn't make a snowball no matter how much pressure you exerted on the crystalline water. Way too dry.
And Goldie's been pretty content to get outside for short periods of snow chasing. But more content to snooze in her favorite chair.
But the temps reached 30 today—a minor heat wave—and the sun came out. Suddenly, our little girl was rarin' to go. She danced by the front door. Circled. Orbited us. Whined. If you reached for your boots, she positioned herself by the front door, ready to stick to your ankle if you headed outdoors. She knew, she KNEW, that it was a prime day for snowballs.
When she gets in high-energy mode, it takes three of us to amuse her. Jay took her out first, for about 15 minutes. Then it was my turn. I shoveled snow for her to chase then discovered spots where the sun made it packable.
I packed while Goldie watched with the most focused stare a dog can manage. I wound up, pitched and she flew.
The snowball orbited until it landed in an untouched part of the lawn. Goldie launched herself at the crater to tear it up, her whole head and front shoulders in the snow, her backside tipped up in the air, wiggling faster than you can imagine.
We played for about an hour when Jay returned to spell me while I went grocery shopping. When Jesse got home, he did his bit.
And so it went, ending with a trek in the woods for Goldie and I with me breaking trail in snowshoes.
I'm a little tuckered but grateful that we have a fur bearing friend who reminds us that snow is for playing in.
No comments:
Post a Comment