My dog demanded I take her for a walk today. A beam of March sunshine crept in the window and smacked her between the ears and she recognized it as a sign that I could be convinced at that very moment to put on her coat and mine.
I told her it had snowed and it was just beginning to melt and would splash coldly on her undercarriage and the salt would pickle the pads of her feet. She scratched the front door and would not take a no.
I particularly enjoyed watching her manoeuvre, or is that hund-oeuvre, around icy footprints and three inch drifts in the small triangle of Strauss Park.
But neither cold nor ice nor slushy blasts could deter her from her duty. Her small contributions steaming on the snow.