Snow. Snow? Snow!

Here in what I like to call the Great White North, N.Q.C. (Not Quite Canada), they have this wonderful stuff called snow. Having grown up in Los Angeles, California, this was a foreign substance to me when I first saw it. However, now that I spend at least four months of the year surrounded by it, I have become, well, addicted. There, I said it. It's out in the open now, I'm through the denial stage, and it's time to face facts.
Some say that I go too far, that snow takes over my life. They say things like, "Stop eating all the snow, there won't be any left." I've also heard them remark, "Look at him. It's like crack cocaine or something." That last quote was said behind my back, but I have great hearing. I have no idea what this "crack cocaine" stuff is, but if it's anything like snow...

The only problem I have with snow, and this is really a conundrum because it's also something that I love about it, is that snow is cold. Not just shivery, ice down your tail cold, but real, honest-to-goodness hold your paw up, tuck your nose under your tail cold. Cold that also, it turns out, feels great when you eat it. And sniff it. But mostly eat it. There are times when I've just plopped myself down in the snow and gone to town on a small drift.
As much as my humans seem to think that I like squeeky toys, or rope toys (great way to get out some aggression, tearing ropes apart, let me tell you!) or even ball toys (oh, the things I'll do for a tennis ball....) there is really nothing that compares to snow. Heck, I've even seen it made into a ball, and then it's thrown and I try to catch it. But they have this lame snow, puppy snow I call it, that doesn't know how to stay together. It doesn't follow directions. And you know what, it's really frustrating. Because you see this ball, and it leaves the hand in ball form, and then, as you calculate your angle of attack, jump angle, and launch velocity, the yapper* breaks up. And you get hit, more often than not, square in the face with a bunch of powder. And you're lucky if even 10% gets in your mouth. It just makes you want to lay down and eat snow for the rest of the day.
That's all I have for tonight. It's off to my sofa. Or maybe the bed...we'll have to see where my nose takes me. Till next woof!

*Sorry for the language, but yapper was the least offensive word I could come up with. Would you rather I have said poodle?