Sloppy

There’s been snow on the ground the past week or so, hard, crusty snow that gets added to at irregular intervals.

Today’s addition was three inches of wet whipped cream, slushy and mixed with rain, falling in a temperature that hovered around 33 degrees . Your boots (tall ones, not the ankle kind) squelch through the gelid, pitted mixture, sploosh, sploosh, sploosh, even on the sidewalk you’ve attempted to shovel and then sprinkled with rock salt. It’s sloppier than Sandy Berger at the National Archives.

Well, I just took Llewellyn out for his night time constitutional. And between the old ice and the new semi-frozen puddles, I couldn’t get the back gate open more than 2"!

I pulled him up on the rock (and snow) covered mound next to the gate where my Norway maple is planted and convinced him it’s ok to pee there.

But he would not do his No. 2. Since October, he knows that’s done Outside. In the alley. He even went and sat down in the slush and looked expectantly out the gap.

So I tried taking him out and around to the alley via the side gate. And it’s frozen shut as well!

Okay, not totally. I could push it open enough for him to get out. And for me to get out, probably, too.

But I didn’t dare. I could see me not being able to squeeze back in. I could visualize impaling myself on the latch bolt. And the only unlocked door and the spare key are both at the back of the house, through that gate.

Gave up, pulled Llewellyn back in, and now I couldn’t shut the side gate, even to latch it!

Came back inside. But Llewellyn really needed to go. All right, I’d take him out and around the block by way of the basement door.

Oh, no, no! My dog wouldn’t let me do that! He knows he’s not allowed down the basement stairs! Not even I would be permitted to tempt him down them!

Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry, puppy.

So we went out the front door (the one that won’t latch), which meant using the key. Llewellyn was so thrilled with getting to go out front that he nearly forgot what the purpose of the trip was. As he hauled me splooshing along the futilely cleared sidewalks, I could just see him pulling me over and me falling down in a great frigid splash!

But we got past next door's house, and next door's to them, and along the side street, and around back with no more than wet paws and cold boots. Once he saw his usual strip of real estate between my fence and the alley, he did his business in short order.

And then waited to be let in through the back gate, as usual.

Not tonight, doggie. And if it freezes tonight as the forecasters say, not tomorrow morning, either.

Oh, joy.

Popular Culture

My friend Ruth* in Kansas City has sent me a Valentine's card, one of those computer-chipped musical ones.

It's a very big hit around the House of the Flying Furballs. As you may see:

Obviously, my kittehs and goggie really Love Lucy!