Where's the snow? Look at the green grass. It's crazy. Usually about this time of year, I can relax, because I know I won't be getting a bath any time soon. This is because of January snowfalls. Snow is a great bather of dogs, a cleanser of the air, and an all-round brightening element of—well—the world. Who wants to go to war when the houses are glistening white and pillowy soft or when you have to shovel out the driveway in order to get to the battleground? No one.
I never get a bath when it snows, because the snow keeps me cleaner than a day at the spa (not that I've ever been to a spa). But, I'm getting worried. It hasn't snowed at all, not even a flake, and yesterday I caught Joan reading the ingredients label on the "Dog Poo" shampoo I got for Christmas. She's so into clean, it's ridiculous. She's got enough to do. What with her job, her other two blogs, the shopping, the cooking of healthy foods, her crunchies, the dog walks, and the vacuuming of dog fur from the red rug in the living room, she really shouldn't bother. Really. Oh, please, snow. Why haven't you come this year? Where are your soft hills on the grass, your sweet powder that tickles my nose, your icy caress on my fulsome back?
Joan says I can get as poetic as I like; I'm still getting a bath this weekend. She calls it tough love a la Joan.
Best wishes, Juno
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