Guide Dog Chronicles: Snow Fun

Guide Dog Chronicles: Snow Fun
We’d just been dumped on! It was the most snow in one ‘cell” since 1978. I’d previously had a path shoveled out so I could easily take the girls (two big, Black Labs) out to piddle and park.
We gracefully exited the porch door and marched down the snowy brick path. So far so good.
The girls walked calmly, with decorum, and were careful to not tangle their leashes or run me into the fence. At the end of the brick walk, where the path was not so distinct and the drift was at its highest, they (or I, as the case may be) lost it.
Each girl bounded off with the enthusiasm and exuberance only a freshly fallen snow to play in can bring. One went northwest, the other went south west. I, however, fell due west, face first into the waist high snow drift.
I lost the leashes and lay there a moment. My first thought was to get right up and call the dogs. My second thought was “Why?” They were running in my fenced in backyard and no one was watching.
I laughed and rolled over on my back. As I giggled and squealed, the snow flakes fell into my mouth and I happily made a snow angel.

The girls stopped their tug-of-war with the cong and came to investigate this strange behavior that their Lady had never previously displayed. Finchlee tried to sniff my moving hand, trampling one perfect angel wing. Wheaton came right to my head and licked my face, as if to say, “There, there, My Lady, everything will be alright.”
I got up and tossed loosely packed snow balls for them. I could hear their powerful jaws chomp shut and their bumping bodies thunder past me. I know how they love to run with their face under the snow. When their head rises, it has a perfect snow hood in it, which is gleefully shaken off.
Eventually, the cold and wet began to seep beneath my outer clothes and sanity returned. Two dogs with lolling tongues and one out of breath Lady frolicked into the house for lunch and if I hadn’t told you, none would be the wiser.
Note: This essay appeared 02/11/1999 Wayne County STAR Newspaper; Cornucopia by Kate Chamberlin, Copyright © 1999, 2011 by Kate Chamberlin. All Rights Reserved.