I love snow…did I tell you? I love, love, love snow (get a grip, not the type you snort, the type you ski in).
Now I know I am a Havanese Hothouse pedigree originally from France and Spain, transplanted to Cuba so I should despise snow and ice but I guess that being born in Canada, in the winter, in a frigid barn with huge crevasses that welcomed the arctic vortex winds made me maybe, possibly, I am just saying, part Husky???? My mostly sable tri colored fur with white coloring makes me look like a Splash Coat Husky….at least I can see a resemblance, are you with me so far?
In any case DNA be darned, I love snorting snow, rolling in snow, ploughing through snow, eating snow. The only time I get my A Game on is when I look outside and see a fresh coat of snow, no paw marks, and a fresh canvass to create. Of course, I am left in the unenviable position of trying to convince Momma to, ‘Forget chores; we got a Rembrandt to make.’ It’s a hard sell to a stuffy, dyed in the wool do-the-chores-before-the-frolic Virgo type. That logic just passes me by….chores never do themselves. They are like cats. They have nothing to do but wait.
The good news in all of this, as stubborn as Momma is, she always bundles up, even when the mercury is dangerously low and takes me walking. Quite often, in the dead of winter when we are out and about, in a city of half a million people, it is like the world has been deserted. There is only me and Momma.
All the Two Footed must be snug in their homes, their dogs, prisoners on lock down until the thermometer climbs. There is nary a bird in the sky, no squirrels, no feral cats….just me and Momma, embracing the quiet and solitude of a brave new day. The better news (for me, anyway) since we have the world to ourselves, Momma lets me free and I set sail, literally air born, my ears back, tail like a plume on my back, my paws skimming the snow, creating a work of carefree art until such time I tumble-down creating doggy angels with floppy ears.
I know and you know, no self-respecting Husky ever would wear a winter coat, made by the Two Footed, even out of love and compassion. Still I am a Havanese and will capitulate on that score….but believe me, I will never wear booties. Momma has bought all different types, which I manage to abandon before we are off the front steps. She made homemade booties that worked better but still I always managed to lose a couple along the walk. No, I am a bare paw kind of puppy.
Still I have a confession but please, it is top-secret. DO NOT TELL ANYONE. Sometimes on the way home, my little paws are so frozen I hold up the right one, look at Momma, hold up the left one, look at Momma and she does what good Momma’s do. She picks me up, warms my paws with her big red mittens, as she carries me home. And just like the Three Little Piggies:
This little puppy went to market, That little puppy stayed at home,
This little puppy had roast beef, That little puppy had none.
And this little puppy ‘snuggled’ all the way home.
Life of Riley, I tell you. Ya got to dig it!
