A couple of weeks
ago I woke with my usual exuberance.
It was breakfast time and I dutifully annoyed everyone until someone
grumbled
and got up. However when they got up and looked out of the window, sheer
delight
appeared on their faces and they started shoving me down the stairs
shouting
SNOW! SNOW! I think dad was talking Scottish again because I didn’t
understand
what he meant. Being Australian, I was taken aback by it all and
confused by Jack and Blue excitedly dancing around. Then the door opened
and the crisp cold air nipped at my
ears. I had no idea what it was and all I wanted was a bowl of the finest kibble. Snot was dripping faster than ever
before and when I ventured outside, my paws sank until I couldn’t
see them anymore. Just what was this white stuff? The longer I stood,
the giddier
I got, I just had to run. It was so exciting to run through this cold
white
blanket. After a few minutes of Tasmanian devils and chasing Jack I was
quickly
bundled into the car with my jacket on and it was off to the woods. It
was fun
chasing after everyone on the red sliding thing and running through the
white fluffy trees
after a Labrador. However after a few days of
cold feet and sliding face first onto ice, it’s safe to say I prefer an evening in
front of
the fire to the white stuff.
