This didn't actually happen to me, but it wouldn't surprise me if it did. For a dog that seems to think that 70 degrees is cold and that water is he mortal enemy, she sure as hell loves to play in the snow. It's bizarre, really.
Most of you know of (and have probably been living through) the insane, mind (and toe) numbing blizzards that have hit the mid-Atlantic this month. Being unable to drive, basically snowbound, I have been fighting some cabin fever (to give you an idea, I was outside on Thursday February 4th, right before the first big storm. The next time I stepped outside it was Thursday February 11th. Because of the ongoing foot issues I was basically useless and unable to do any shoveling or salting. Thankfully Wifey is strong like bull (but pH balanced for a woman!), and she along with Larry the Upstairs Neighbor dug the house out as needed.
**I am going to post some pics of my poor, poor truck in a moment, just to give anyone who isn't living through this crap an idea of the carnage**
This morning I went out back with Wifey and the Ball of Ultimate Evil (the dog). The dog had to do her dirty, sinful business and the truck needed to run for a few minutes since it wasn't being driven. This is the third time I went outside (I took a cab to the local grocery store yesterday because we were in need of some supplies. We weren't going to go all Donner Party if I hadn't, but it was pleasant enough to replenish some of the perishables and it afforded me a chance to get the sausage needed for the pancakes and sausage for Shrove Tuesday dinner (yay!!!!).
Now if only I could get Wifey to go to bed before 4 or 5 in the morning. I am beginning to think that she is a Vampire Robot Cylon. So light a candle for me, wouldja?