Snow is to Dogs as Catnip is to Cats

 This is a reposting of a blog I wrote last year, which seems quite appropriate today given the weather we're having.

We are the very proud owners of two wonderful, semi-well behaved collies—named Shiloh and Zoey—who are consistently bursting with playfulness and energy. However, when the snow starts falling, take all that playfulness and energy, times it by fifty-three, and suddenly they've turned into Psycho Snow Dogs of the East.

Those two don’t even have to be outside when the flakes begin flying for them to lose it; they peer outside with their long collie noses pressed up against the glass—which, by the way, leaves dog-snot graffiti all over my freshly washed windows—and immediately become crazed. To them, there is nothing that beats playing in the snow, seconded only by the exciting knowledge that there is snow out there, aching to be romped in.

Then it begins… 

Shiloh and Zoey will parade excitedly to the backdoor to go out, so that they can dive off the back porch, with wild abandon, into all the magical, fluffy white stuff that awaits them out there.

Once they get outside, it’s a snow stampede; the two festive, frolicking fools will chase each other, chase the snowflakes, and chase absolutely nothing in particular. They’ll take turns barking with glee, then they’ll prance, pounce, and play some more. If you looked at all the footprints they leave, you’d swear several wolf packs resided in our backyard.

When we feel like they’ve had enough, since they never feel like they’ve had enough, we’ll call them in; and along with them in comes enough snow to cover the entirety of Alaska, twice. Upon entering the house, the Abominable Snow Dogs dash to—where else—the living room to shake off, so that if we want to make our way across the room to the couch, we need to strap on snow shoes.

After being inside for approximately fifteen minutes, Shiloh and Zoey will be at the backdoor again, begging to go out. And, of course, we have to let them back out; the sparkle in their eyes are priceless. So in and out they go—for hours on end—never tiring of it.

Incidentally, we’ve found out that all that play—that we hope beyond all hope will wear them out—so we can have a moment’s peace from taking turns playing Carlton the Doorman, does not officially count—in their minds—toward wearing them out. They’ve decided that the only way it counts, is if we go out and join in their fun with them. Not exactly a terrible price to pay for tired collies. And tired collies are a very good thing indeed.

Bonnie Daly is the author of Christmas Madness, Mayhem, & Mall Santas available through Amazon, on Kindle, and also at the Monte Cristo Bookshop in downtown New London.