Snowy Pawprints

Our dog who'd rushed out with me into the yard and then pretended not to hear me calling for him to come back in was still out chasing through the snow. His long, shaggy, black and white body flew across the yard. And I watched him dive into a snowbank and lunge his chest down into the flakes. He rolled and kicked through it like he'd never experienced anything so wonderful. That was part of the wisdom of dogs. He never got numb to joy. Every day was exciting. Every meal delicious. Every nap satisfying. It made me want to go out and play with him. But first, breakfast. First for all of us.