I wrote this last winter about our sweet girl. We miss her every day... FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW I woke up to a world covered in white. The snow continued to fall softly, as I dressed to take Molly for her walk. As we ventured out, and our black dog rapidly became white, I noticed the six footprints left behind in the snow - two from me, four from her. And it made me smile to think of all of the sets of footprints left in the snow, by people walking their dogs, this morning: the four prints leading the way, while the two followed behind, by the length of a leash. When Molly was a puppy, she was gleeful at the sight of snow; staying out for hours running, playing, digging, rolling. She’d come back inside with her coat caked in snow. We’d brush it out and dry her, and wash her feet with warm water, to melt the chunks between her pads. Now, at 11 years old, she seems pleased to take a walk in the snow, but is equally pleased to come back in after a few minutes, to the warmth of our home and a rubdown with a fluffy towel. And sometimes, when I’ve shut the storm door behind us, but haven’t yet closed the inside door, she spends a few minutes looking out through the glass at the falling snow. And I wonder if she thinks back on those days of her youth with nostalgic longing, as many of us do. She stretches out in her favorite spot - not the bed, not one of the couches; but rather, the area of the kitchen floor that’s right above the boiler in the basement. I can feel the warmth on that part of the floor, when I walk barefoot, and understand full well why she’s adopted this spot as her own. And now, our sweet old girl sleeps, in the safety and comfort of our home; as the snow continues to blanket our world, and cover the six footprints we left behind. © Judith. L. Goldfarb January 2014
Posted on: Sat, 06 Dec 2014 01:31:04 +0000
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