Bubbles, our first adopted greyhound (and strict opponent of coats, sweaters, and boots no matter the weather) holds yet another sweet winter memory for me.
Our eighth and last winter in Indiana, was the coldest and snowiest we’d seen. Two feet of snow layered with ice was good for sledding, but not for a leggy greyhound with dainty feet. She would step outside where the patio used to be and pause, tossing us a look over her shoulder that implied we should put the weather back on the regular channel.
Of course Bubbles did a pretty good Bambi impersonation each time she went out into that icy yard. Where she expected snow to give way, the ice would give her more challenges. To the regular shoveling of the sidewalk and driveway, we added the task of hacking through the ice crust for her and scooping out a narrow path so she could get where she wanted to relieve herself.
She was used to snow, even enjoyed dashing about like a puppy whenever we had a good fluffy snowfall, but Bubbles wasn’t a fan of ice. But Bubbles was our sweetheart and as she’d long ago wrapped us around her delicate paw, she patiently waited for us to carve that path every time mother nature covered it up.
While the move south from Indiana was a grueling trip I believe Bubbles was pleased with the change in climate. No one ever suggested she wear that offensive sweater and the only weather she had to deal with was rain – and our first adopted greyhound loved to play in the rain.
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