100

Blogger says this is my 100th post. Do I feel pressure to make it noteworthy? No more than I have the past 99 times!

Today the sun rose on the first snow of winter. We had some white stuff back in October, but that didn't count because ... well, because it was October and clearly the snow wouldn't last. December snow has at least a chance of sticking around. This snowfall began yesterday afternoon, and it didn't whiten the road as I was driving home from the next to last craft fair of the season, so I wondered if it would actually accumulate. By dinnertime, the railing on the front porch was covered with almost two inches of fluffy flakes. That was promising! Each time Waldo went outside to do his thing, he tiptoed around the cold white ground, sniffing it and the air, and returning to the door with muzzle and beard caked with clumps of snow. Apparently he doesn't mind this change to his environment because one of those times outdoors he spent sitting on his favorite spot, watching traffic drive past as though nothing had changed, while the snow gathered on his little head. He had fun coming inside and shaking the moisture off himself and onto us.

He also had a different brand of fun today. My husband, who had arthroscopic surgery on his knee on Friday, and who is making wonderful, fast progress in his recovery, decided on his first day able to drive that he'd take the dog when he went in to town to purchase a Sunday newspaper and get a little fresh air. He did make sure that he had his cellphone with him which turned out to be very fortunate. The first mistake was choosing to get the fresh air on a local logging road which is little more than the remnants of two wheel ruts that run from a side road well into woods and up the side of a mountain. The second mistake was to let the dog off his leash.

We've discovered that, sometime in his puppy past, Waldo must have been treated very badly and chased to be caught, so it took us months to get him to willingly come back into the house from the yard when he was let out not on a leash or lead, and to get him into the truck (the Big Honkin' Truck, that is) or even my car, he had to be leashed from inside the house and led by the leash to get into the vehicle. It feels odd to us because our previous dogs have LOVED going for car rides, but not this one.

About twenty minutes after my husband had left in the truck, the phone rang. His voice in my ear told me that Waldo was loose and wouldn't get back into the truck. Good thing he'd brought his phone to call and tell me! I picked up a couple of large dog biscuits, tossed on my fleece jacket and snow boots, and headed out. The logging road area looks different in the snow, so I drove past the entrance and had to turn around to return to it. I didn't dare pull in because I haven't yet had the snow tires put on my car, and it isn't good in that type of snowy road, so I left it up on the side road. What followed was a 90 minute exercise in frustration and patience.

Long story short, we tried lots of tricks to lure him close enough to catch, but we had no luck. The mister had to sit down periodically to rest his leg, and each time I was close enough to make an attempt at catching him, Waldo would dart away. I could sometimes touch his fur but I couldn't grab anything that would slow him down, so of course that charged him up even more. Finally, we tried slowly driving away, the truck in the lead and me following in the car. As he does in our yard, the dog trotted off after the truck and he kept looking back at me. We knew that there was no hope of getting home via this little-used back road because it ended at the state highway, but we thought there might be a break in the situation if we traveled about half a mile along it. Fortunately, that's what happened: the truck stopped and my husband got out, I stopped my car and got out, and the dog was tired enough that he lay down in the snow at the side of the road to rest, so I was able to slip my hand under his collar and secure him. What a relief! This little guy couldn't endure much time out in the woods after the sun lowered, the air grew cold, and the prowling animals caught scent of him.

So now the fire crackles in the wood stove, the patient is giving his knee a little extra TLC, reading the Sunday papers that I brought home to him, and taking it easy, the furry little boy lies on the dining room carpet resting up from his adventures, and I'm here, sipping some warm coffee and counting my blessings that my boys are both at home with me, safe and sound. I never did get out to take pictures of the first snow, but there will be other snowfalls even prettier, so I'm in no rush to go out wandering ... as opposed to these two males who seem to have wanderlust in their genes.