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Winter Joy or Winter Hum Drum? Depends On Who You Ask

As the weather gets colder, I am reminded of the beginning of last winter, when the snow went from mild to wild. And I remember one particular morning. . .

I knew it couldn't last forever, this mild winter we were experiencing. Now we're covered in snow, just like we're meant to be. Wintery white, cold, crisp and sparkly. It really is beautiful, in a blinding white sort of way.

Until I think about the drive that has to be shoveled, the walks that need to be cleared and the cars that need to be dug out. Ugh. Winter. I'm so over it.

Then I watch my chocolate lab, Chip as he runs out to bounce in the snow with the joy of a five-year-old puppy. He rolls and bounces as puffs of powdery white snow flow in glittering clouds around him.

That's how you greet winter when you're happy about it. Bounce around with joy and just play.

Then there's Wick, our eight-month-old kitten.

Her first experience with snow began with a startled, short stop when I open the door, as if to say Whoa, who changed my world?" With a small nudge from my Sorel booted foot, Wick bounds from the proch and lands cat-knee deep in snow. Her head spins around to look at me, her look clearly confused. A random brown leaf grabs her attention as it scurries across the white landscape. Wick, true to her form, chases it with a few bounding leaps and lands neck deep in snow. It's obvious she doesn't quite know what to do with this new predicament. So she looks at me. . . and sits there.

This is how you greet winter if you just don't know what's going on. Crawl in a hole and wait it out.

I trudge through the snow, rather relishing being the first one to mar the perfect surface. I grab the newspaper and turn back, watching the animals. I'm not sure what Wick is doing, but she has yet to move from her snow fox-hole. Chip is still doing his business back in the forest, if the white puffs of flying snow are any indication.

Wick suddenly grows brave (or her fuzzy tail is sticking to the ice) and bounds towards the back door, where a snow-less life and warmth waits for her.

I have to call the dog a couple of times and remind him that breakfast is waiting, but all he wants to do is roll in the snow. Weirdo.

Wick has almost made it to safety when Chip finally comes running back, the call of breakfast' registering in that thick skull of his.

Wick's head and neck are visible, and she's just about to make her last leap from the snow to the porch when Chip spots her and decidedly has other plans.

One joyful pounce from a 65-pound lab and it's all over.

Wick has just experienced winter in a way she'd never intended. When the explosion of white snow settles, our little Wick is anything but happy.

She swipes nastily at the tail-wagging dog. He jumps away from her and bounds into the house, obviously proud of himself for besting the cat (which is a rarety).

Wick shakes her fur free of the offending snow and cautiously follows me into the house, looking for her attacker. There is heat and revenge in her eyes. I wisely keep my bare hands away from her and act soley as the doorman she expects me to be.

Once the dog is fed and greedily munching away, I watch as Wick casually makes her way past Chip and into his big bed. She wanders right to the middle, and promptly squats to do her wet business right where Chip sleeps.

I battle a quick mental war that lasted all of 1.6 seconds. Before I can get angry and begin to scold our cat, a giggle bubbles out of me in a wave that rolls into belly-aching laughter.

Even though I now have more laundry to do, Wick has showed Chip what she thinks of him trouncing her in the snow.

And really, who can blame her? Sometimes snow just sucks.

Learn more about this author, Joyce Menyasz.
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