The kind of snow reserved for and measured by terms like ”once every 50 years” has insinuated itself upon my doorstep– a doorstep usually protected by a covered porch that extends 8 feet in width by 24 feet in length. At first, Gracie (above left) and Boz are not so sure what to make of this cold carpet of icy white. The next frame quickly answers the question: note there’s only one set of paw prints and those reveal a very short round trip that ended in reconsideration.
My Frenchie Pipi approaches winter (and snow) in the same way. I’m usually pushing her at the door from behind. If it were up to Pipi, she’d take care of all business indoors.
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