monday, 5:20am. 12°, snowing.
i am led to understand that snow can be disorienting for a dog. it covers the ground, where they'd typically find the smells that would lead them home.
it's the same for humans. it's monday morning and no one else is out with their dog. the 6am employees are either all running late or early; no one is driving around. somewhere there's the sound of a single shovel scraping a driveway – there are only a couple of inches of light, fluffy lake effect snow on the ground, and most of us will just walk or drive through it (even my heavier-than-usual trash can didn't have problems getting down the driveway this morning).
the amber streetlights reflecting on the snow give the overcast sky a pinkish look.
rufus usually avoids sewer grates like the plague. i suppose i would, too, if my leg would fit through the grate and get stuck in there. he stepped on one hidden by snow today and scooted a few steps forward quickly.
it occurs to me that if i were limited to urinating outside, buried under the branches of a pine tree, out of the way of the cold air and the falling snow, is where i'd pick for my longest stop-off, too.
monday, 4:20pm. 24°, mostly sunny.
true story: some dogs just are not dog people.
we walked past what appeared to be an elder golden retriever (who was graying around the muzzle) in an electronic fenced front yard. he, of course, saw us coming, and kept a watch out – until we approached the yard. he then retreated to the front steps of the house while rufus inspected and marked the mailbox. when we walked away, the golden went to check the damage.