Winter Has Come and River is Not Happy

I had a dream that became a memory  I was in Winterfell, home of the Stark family in “Game of Thrones.”  I was lying next to one of the dire-wolves who is sworn to protect his humans. “Winter is coming,” he said menacingly. I asked him what his winters were like.
“The undead rise and walk amongst us. They tear down the wall separating our lands. They fly across the sky riding undead dragons that breathe ice. They will not rest until we are all dead, and our newly reanimated corpses are fighting for them.” He let the horror settle over us before he asked how my winter was.

“It is cold.  My paws get wet when I go out. I even shiver.”

The dire wolf contemplated me for several minutes.  “You win,” he said while putting a paw on my shoulder.

The night before my dream we had our first winter storm of the season. It had been cold, windy and snowing all day. Before he took me out Daddy put on his sweater, his jacket, and his hat. He leashed me and we walked on to the enclosed porch. We passed my jacket hanging on its hook. I looked at it. “You won't be needing that,” Daddy said.  “We aren't going to be out long”

We aren't going out for long? If the length of time we were to be out was the issue why did you have to put on a jacket, or sweater a coat, or a hat, or gloves?  I'm the one going out there against her will. You’re going to be you just standing there holding the leash. Why do you get to be warm?

There is nothing colder than snow on warm paws.  I did my pee business immediately and turned to go back inside. “Hold on River,” Daddy said “you didn't poop last night, and you produced two bags full this morning” (don't pretend you're not impressed), “I don't want you to be uncomfortable tonight, so you need to poop.”

Uncomfortable? I was standing bared pawed and unjacketed in 3 inches of snow which was still falling.  When did my level of comfort become a concern? That's it! I called a wild cat poop strike. We stayed outside until he, in the coat, the sweater, the hat, and the gloves got cold.  I tell you it's a dog's life.

The next morning Pocket went out first.  She came back in cold, wet and shivering.  I asked her how it was, and all she did was shake her head forlornly.

When it was my turn to go out, I knew it would be record-breaking freezing because Daddy grabbed my coat. When he tried to put it on, I kept pulling my legs out of the holes just to frustrate him.  We went outside, and I walked into an episode of Deadliest Catch during Opilio season: Nothing but cold, rain and ice. Like those crab men I stepped out to do my business but unlike them I was about to take a crap on the deck.  I quickly did my business but kept some poop inside so I could release a healthy quarter pounder with cheese onto the emergency poop pads in the kitchen while my parents ate breakfast. I'll leave a trail of it at the hallway from the pads onto the wood floor which camouflages my little dumplings increasing the chance that they will be smooshed.  Upon completion, I will ask: “Sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”

Vengeance will be mine saith the Griffon.