I am ashamed of my sisters. We get a few feet of snow and suddenly they can’t go outside. Back in my day I used to go out in snow ten times over my head in temperatures 30 below zero and I was glad! Glad I say! Dogs today are pussified.
When I was a young pup we lived across the street from the state mental hospital. My sister Blake and I would get walks every day, even in the snow. Mommy was working then and we were crated all day so our parents thought it was important to get our energy out via walks.
But we couldn’t walk on the sidewalks. Mommy didn’t want our paws damaged from rock salt or our under carriages covered with sand. So we walked around the softball field on the outer limits of the mental hospital. We didn’t question who would give mental patients bats and hard balls to play with, just as the mental patients didn’t ask why seemingly normal thinking adults would walk their dogs around the perimeter of a snow covered diamond.
I was light enough to pretty much walk right on top of the frozen crust. Blake was twice my size and would often sink to her knees but still managed for force her way through the snow. Mommy and Daddy would sink a foot in the snow and clomp their way through the high snow like World War II Russian soldiers walking guard duty in Stalingrad, inexplicably doing so with two lap dogs.
We did our business, and my parents even dug down in the snow to clean it up. One day I finished my business and the scooted my burning butt on the cold snow. Oh that felt nice. But it left a brown streak on the snow and the next day I got taken to a vet. The only thing wrong was my anal glands felt the need to express themselves.
And the next night I was back out, in the cold and the snow, like a real dog. Not the pussified dogs we have now. Someone get me a can of moxie and my pipe. Gunsmoke is on.
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