Olie loves the snow. Loves it! Freshly fallen is best. I make her sit at the back door and open the slider. She anxiously shuffles her feet and lets out a little annoyed moan. Eventually, she looks up at me and I say "OK", but the "O" is all she needs. She leaps of the back steps and bounds around the yard, as close as a dog can get to being a gazelle, making little trails, which she'll continue to follow 'til the next snow fall.
Occasionally I can catch her and give her a good white wash but only if I'm willing to get down in the snow myself. Here, she was on her way back from vanely searching for a snowball I had thrown moments before. She swore she saw it land, but snowballs are unusually elusive.
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