Saki’s first official snowfall, that is, since he joined our household. He woke us all up a five this morning demanding to go out—not for anything urgent—just so he could run in circles in the snow, eat the snow, nose the snow, roll in the snow, jump on Shane’s face in the snow. Kids.
For me, the snow is always welcome. I’m basically a snow dog, and I’m sure my ancestors were lovers of icy snow-swept winters, who knows, maybe in the mountains of China or Canada. How I ended up here on Long Island I’ll never know. But, there’s no denying one’s genes.
Shane is of different stuff. He’s indifferent to everything. Snow, schmow; that’s how he feels. So, while Saki is practically doing somersaults of joy and exuberation (MS Word doesn’t think "exuberation" is a proper word), I sit peacefully with my nose buried in a white soupçon of fresh snow watching him tear through the dawning of the day. Shane? Shane sits and stares at the house, wondering when the door will open.
We’re all put together rather haphazardly, wouldn’t you agree?
Best wishes, Juno
1 comment:
Dear Juno, Shane, and Saki,
I like you. You're so funny and cuddly.
From Jefferson
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