The more it goes (tiddely pom) on snowing, on snowing







It has been snowing and snowing. Yesterday, I took the stroller and my little popsicle out for a walk in the morning. Pushing the stroller through the thick snow, the sun shining on one side of the sky, grey skies promising more snow on the other. A sleeping baby. When we moved to the country, I thought how wonderful it would be to walk in the woods every day. Our little neighborhood is filled with enormous trees. I can feel my cells renewing themselves with every breath. How I love to be outside, especially bundled up against the cold.

But the dogs. There are always dogs in the country, even when you live in a subdivision. Big ones. Scary ones. I didn’t think of that. My husband was bitten last year in our old neighbourhood by a truly enormous dog that jumped its fence to attack the dog we had at the time. At our new home, there is a Rottweiler and a big white dog on one side, and three German Shepherds on the other. They bark mercilessly until we are out of sight. Yesterday, the Rottweiler was growling too. I pushed through my nervousness in the interest of getting some fresh air without getting in the car. I made it down the street one way, but when I came back the snow was so high that the big white dog had made it over the fence and was blocking my way home, barking aggressively. The Rottweiler was still on the safe side of the fence, but I was sure she could have made it over too if she wanted. I was too frightened to get home and after standing on the road for a few long minutes trying to decide what to do, I pushed the stroller and my precious little darling to a neighbour’s home. I didn’t know what else to do. Dogs can tell if you are scared, right? The neighbour was kind to drive me home, but it took me a long time to calm down after that, and I won’t try to go out again. In the interest of trying to find a window that could open now that this door has been closed, I have decided that it is time to venture out onto the frozen lake in front of the house. I’ve been scared of that too, but I actually think the fear of dogs is more rational. Especially in February.

Our little love is feeling a great range of emotions these days, and is often tearful, especially when we have to put her down. It has been unusually noisy at our home for the past few days. We are grateful for the moments of peace, though, and our gratitude is magnified by the scarcity and transience of the silence. Despite the noise, there is so much to be joyful about. Even through her tears, we can make her laugh, smile her gorgeous toothless smiles, kick her chubby little legs with excitement. Her little pouts before she burst into tears are heartbreakingly adorable. My husband sings her to sleep, the furnace is warm, the kitties come in and out. Homemade hot chocolate, a new knitted hat, tomato seedlings poking through the soil. I can wait for spring.


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