S’no balls

The thing about snow balls is, well, when you try to catch them they are very cold and when they land in snow, you can’t find them. Dave loves throwing snowballs for me and I love trying to get them, but they’re never where I think they are. Dave laughs a lot. I think he knows something I don’t.

Snow is like a magnet for Dave. He gets all excited and does a little jig when he knows there is snow about. Inevitably, after the white stuff falls, we will go out. I know the signs. Apart from the little jig, he starts to fiddle about with his back pack. It gets stuffed full of things but as far as I can see, they are very light things that only make the pack look heavy. Then he starts to mutter about cameras.

You may have picked up from these blogs that Dave is keen on photography. He thinks he’s good at it and who am I to burst his bubble. Regardless of his talent, it’s very entertaining to watch him decide which camera (often, cameras). It usually starts the night before when he charges up some batteries. I’ve learnt to identify which camera will be going with us by the battery alone. Then he starts sorting through the lenses. Often, he will change his mind about the camera at this point. It becomes quite tedious and if I could be bothered to stay awake, I’m sure the boredom would be unbearable. By the time I’ve woken up, I can tell whether we’re in for a long walk or a short one by the relative sizes of the back pack and camera bag.

Today, the back pack was large and the camera bag was small. Long walk. I watched Dave fill the treat bag and that was quite full too. I like long walks, so I wagged my tail to let Dave know he’d made the right choice. We set off in the cold and dark but the car was soon cosy and warm. I’ve had my hair cut recently, and it was much more comfortable on the back seat. I dozed while Dave drove. Driving is not really my thing.

When I jumped out of the car, everything was white. Snow! I love it, except when it balls up between my paws. But we weren’t in our normal spot to climb the mountain and Dave explained that the road was too slippery. Last year, he had a bigger car and snow never bothered him but ever since he got rid of it for the hair dressers car he has now (I told him at the time but he wouldn’t listen) he’s been more careful where he goes and where he parks.

We set off along the river and once the sun had come up, it wasn’t too cold. In fact it was lovely, although I didn’t go in the river as I usually do because that would have been foolish with snow everywhere. Instead I jumped, bounded, jogged, walked and ran through the snow while Dave huffed and puffed behind me. I tried to help by offering to empty the treat bag but Dave was a little stubborn about that.

Then came the snowball thing. We must have spent ages playing snowballs. I tried to catch them in mid air – much easier than jumping for stones. I chased them until they disappeared. I barked at them, and at Dave when he was distracted with his camera. Great fun was had by everyone. We headed back to the car and I had a feeling that this wasn’t the end of it. Sure enough, we drove in the opposite direction to home and after a few minutes, parked at the side of the road. There was a fence and a stile and I was just about to demonstrate my stile style when Dave pointed out a gap in the fence. I went through that while Dave, too big to fit, climbed the stile.

We followed a level strip of ground on the slope of the hill. Dave went on about disused railway lines and quarrying but I wasn’t really listening as there were far too many interesting aromas under the snow. My nose got cold through all the snuffling and sniffing I had to do. There were sheep around – I could smell them. But Dave kept missing them as they were camouflaged against the snow. I didn’t bother with them (they’re so boring. No conversation and no sense of adventure).

By the time we got back to the car it was getting cold. Clouds were coming in and we’d been walking for more than 2 hours all together. Dave driedf between my toes (he’s kind like that) and while I dozed, he drove us home.

I’d still like to know what happens to the snowballs though.

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One response to “S’no balls

  1. Pingback: Looking back | franticsmurf

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