Big snow, small dog

"I am afraid it will swallow me up!"

We got a lot of snow on Monday, and Angus wasn't sure what to think. He's already made it clear that he is a dog who does not much care to be cold, and now I am getting the sense that he doesn't much care to be wet, either. Or buried. And by evening, he was all three: I'm not sure how much snow we got, but something more than a foot. It's beautiful! I can go snowshoeing!

I worked from home because Angus has been sick for four days--sick-ish, that is; he romps and eats just fine, but his digestion has been problematic, to say the least, and I wasn't going to have him trapped in a soiled kennel for hours and hours like he was on Friday.

(At this point, I have to say that I am more than grateful to have a job and an employer that make it pretty easy for me to work at home. I can patch into the work computer, much of my job requires reading, and it works out pretty well. I actually prefer going into the newsroom, but on a day like Monday--sick puppy and blizzard--home is good.)

A black dog with a white puffy and a black-and-white brother in white snow.

He seems better. I made him a slurry of ground beef and white rice and he wolfed it down for breakfast and had no problems. I gave him some more midday, and then a little more for dinner--I am completely unsure how much to give him, but three modest servings seemed to make sense, and unless he is crapping somewhere very secret, I think it's safe to say there have been no disasters.  The real test, of course, will be overnight, which is when he has been having the most difficulty.

In between answering emails, editing reviews, writing the story announcing the NBCC finalists (the reason I was in New York), and reading the latest book I am reviewing, I took the dogs outside, and I shoveled snow. Every time I took Angus out, he turned around and raced back into the house and I had to carry him out again. He's fast.

Once outside, he spent part of the time sitting on the top porch step, watching and looking mournfully toward the door, and part of the time he spent zooming across the snow, chasing Rosie. The zooming made me happy.

I didn't kennel him when I went out to shovel, but let them roam free in the house; I figured I wouldn't be gone that long. But it doesn't take a puppy very long to get into trouble.

The first time I came in from shoveling, I found my iPhone in the middle of the front hallway. The second time, I found the living room reading lamp unplugged and the extension cord dragged across the floor. And the third time I came in, I found Angus cheerfully gnawing away at my winter hat, which had been drying on the radiator.

He's full of mischief, which is good. I think he's feeling better. I hope he's feeling better. I think we all need a good night's sleep.