Let It Snow

Living in Southern Ontario, you’d think that over the past few weeks Mal would have met his first snow, or at least his first snow since coming to live with us in April, but we live in Toronto. This means that while the entire world around us is covered in a crystalline blanket of white, we ourselves have only had a few scattered dustings, and therefore Mal has yet to actually get his first sincere taste of that white wintry treat.

So it is with great amusement that I sat and watched him last night at the back door. He was ringing his bell to go out like the Wonderpup he is, but once I opened the door and he saw the tiny white flakes blowing around as they fell from the sky, well he was having none of that and would spin about and boot as fast as he could back into the house and far away from that door.
We did this dance about twenty times, and each time was just as funny as the last. Of course as bedtime approached it became less about the funny and more about the ‘Oh my god dog, can you just go out and pee so I can go to bed without worrying if you’re going to make a mess inside my house!’
Finally when it came down to it, I had to suit up in about a million layers of clothing, pull on my boots, hats, mitts and my super duper heavy duty winter parka and hook that dog up to the leash and take his Craziness over to the park so that he would give up the ‘I’ve got to get back into the house before this white stuff falling from the sky eats me’ routine.
I had to brave the wicked -25°C winds and snow in hopes that being further away from the house would make him just forget about getting back in so much and get him thinking more about the fact that he actually had to make a night deposit.
No luck. I stayed out as long as I could but the Wonderpup wasn’t having any of it. So home we came, I climbed into bed and just like I knew I would, I woke up to Mal’s night deposit right in front of my backdoor.

Thanks pup.

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About katastrophes1

Kat is a 20 something girl stuck in a 40 something body. Mom to 3 kids, tormented and amused by 3 crazy dogs. Amateur photographer, self taught crochet junkie. Thinker of crazy thoughts. Where do they come from? Who knows where thoughts occur, they just happen!
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