Outside the snow is falling, school children are hollaring, “Whoo-hoo!” Pretty sure every school in a two-state radius is closing for the (predicted to be epic) snow storm. Since I love snow–and I did a week’s worth of grocery shopping on Wednesday–I’m totally cool with a blizzard; if all else fails, Savvy can pull a sled to Kroger.
Speaking of the dog, her initial reaction to the fluffy precipitation was that of any normal German shepherd: she peered suspiciously at the falling flakes, waiting for proof of their (certain) intent to destroy her family. I packed snow around one of her favorite balls, sure this would make a positive association. Instead, she yelped with concern for her toy, slapping the proffered ball with her paw and whining, finally snapping at the white crust–and then she was still. She leaned in again, sniffing, then licking, emphatically chomping at the snow. Once she figured out that snow is edible, the entire world truly was transformed into a wonderland where tasty treats (akin to the marvelous ice cubes that are stored away in the fridge) simply fall from the sky. We frolicked, she enjoyed the chilly snacks, and Hubby recorded the moment.
In other news, Hooping the Half training is going well, though this week’s practice will probably be canceled. I keep neglecting to send a profile to Sunny to post on our website, because I don’t have anything inspirational to say about breast cancer, except that it sucks, I’m damn lucky and blessed that no one in my family has suffered from it, and I really wish we could figure out how to make it go away. . . but it feels almost irreverent to speak in such a fashion about this horrible disease that affects so many people. I’ll keep thinking about it.
Bandit is talking to the snow outside the window. For anyone who has a cat, she’s making those goat-esque gurgles that end with an “ack-ack.” She’s probably scolding the (remarkably fat) robins outside for being on the other side of the glass and thus impossibly out of reach. For my own amusement, I like to think that, if it were possible for her feline throat, her cat-calls would have nothing to do with her desire to hunt and would instead be something like this: Star Wars fans, don’t hate 