Happiness is a Cold Blanket

On day two of the blizzard of monstrous, historical, and biblical proportions, I spent more time outside than I have all winter. With the steady snowfall piling so high against the back door that simply letting the dogs out was not an option, I began to fear that Manny the obese and low-to-the-ground puggle might start spewing urine from his scrunched nostrils. Leo was game for a few romps in the thick white blanket, but I didn't just spend a million dollars to remove a tumor only to have him drown in the backyard.

So I dragged out the boots and the puffy coat and the hat and two left handed gloves (Leo is back in full lab form, and just recently destroyed the two right-handed mates) and braced myself for discomfort of, well, monstrous, historical, and biblical proportions. Even though the snowplows had been working all night, they couldn't keep up with the storm, and the streets were only slightly less impassable than the sidewalks. At some points, Manny looked like a submarine dirigible, with only his tail and the top of his head visible as he labored to slice through the heavy drifts. Between Manny's heavy breathing and concerns about Leo's lost insulation from his still shaved belly, I did wonder a bit about how I would get my car out of the garage to rush them both to the vet.

But everyone survived, and the three of us came home for a nice morning nap. Until my daughter woke about an hour later and suggested, of all things, that we walk the dogs. As fun as the walk had been, my bed was feeling pretty comfy, but not wanting to pass up my daughter's companionship, I got up and once again dragged out the boots and the puffy coat and the hat and the two left handed gloves and broke the news to the dogs that nap time was over. Well I don't think I've ever seen the two of them abandon slumber so quickly; their wagging tails propelled them immediately to the front door. I guess they had enjoyed our walking adventure.

Sometimes the days that promise to be the dreariest can surprise you. Several dog walks, a few shoveling episodes, and one satisfying workout in an otherwise empty gym later, my daughter and I were giddy with unexpected satisfaction and warmth. Add on some fresh baked cookies, a ridiculous escapade through unplowed streets so she and a friend could sneak into the house of some boy to deliver her baked invitation to the turnabout dance, and a large pizza for dinner, and the blizzard of monstrous, historical, and biblical proportions turned out to be anything but a disappointment.

Today I will take Leo to the oncologist so we can discuss treatment options for the cancer the doctors are sure will overtake him soon. It promises to be a dreary day. But my money's on Leo. I still think he's going to surprise us all.