Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow...

When Jeff and I were in upstate New York for Christmas, I kept telling Jeff how "blessed" and "lucky" we were to get plummeted with snow while on holiday.  Now that I am a quasi-Southerner, not by birth but by association, snow is practically nonexistent.  That is until about an inch of snow hit the ground Tuesday morning.  I was up bright and early, 4A.M. to be exact, working on writing all 94 of my individualized student progress report comments, when I heard rain droplets tinkling outside our window.  Two hours later, when it was time to rouse the boys and take our daily constitutional out in the cold we stepped outside into a Winter Wonderland.  The rain had magically turned to snow.

Big leap

Milt dog was quite excited, as you can see.

Polar bear

This was actually Milton's second interaction with snow.  The first was rather brief, another early morning encounter, and soon over.  This snowfall stuck around a bit longer.  Of course, Milt took full advantage of all the fun!

Floppy ears flapping in the cool breeze

Biting at the snow

Attempting to catch a snowflake on his tongue

Still trying...!

In an hour or two, the snow had disappeared  but the cold had not.  That afternoon, the Milt and I prepared for our afternoon walk, as is our custom on days when he is home bound, and I decided to bundle up.  I actually broke out my knee-length goose down parka, resplendent with furry hood, which was that coat's starring debut in the South.  I was feeling particularly chilly though, so I donned a wool hat, scarf, and gloves to complete the ensemble.  Milt was flabbergasted by his Momma's outlandish appearance.  He had never seen me bundled up so much before; he couldn't take his eyes off me.  Milton especially liked my gloves as he kept trying to bite at them.  After our usual hour walk, we returned, and I left the pieces of my ensemble on the bench in our foyer.

The next morning, I sprinted out the door to work leaving my little Milt watching me go with his wet snout pressed up against the window.  This quite honestly tears at my heartstrings every morning.  About 15 minutes later, I received a call from Jeff who informed me that he just discovered our dood lying in the middle of the living room rug gnawing on his Momma's woolly mitten.

The damage

Jeff gave the Milt a good loud yell.  Do I ever yell at the Milt?  Never ever, do I ever...  This mitten incident really upset me though.  I love these mittens with their tight wool knit, colorful colors, and the ability to turn into finger gloves by pulling the top back and fastening it with a wooden button; the button was chomped in half (You can just barely see it on the left in the photo).  These mittens were/are very special to me because I bought them on a jaunt to Ireland while I was studying abroad in Italy.  They hold dear memories of the wonderful girls I studied/lived with and the many adventurous travels we embarked on together.  These gloves have been around for the past six years braving the extreme cold of upstate New York, one icy winter in Boston, and many, many freezing days in New York City.  Then the Milt got to them.  Jeff assures me that Milt was just missing me, when I left for school, and he wanted to nibble on something awash with my scent.

I am angry, hurt, and I feel like my best buddy bit me in the butt, quite literally.  When Milt chewed Jeff's glasses, I was indignant because Jeff left them on the floor.  When Milt chewed Jeff's glasses a second time, I was annoyed at Jeff because he had placed them on a low table.  After Milton took a bite out of Jeff's wedding shoes, I was finally legitimately agitated because he should have known better.  They weren't my shoes though.  Now, I am just pissed because my puppy dog bit me (his Momma?!) where it hurts.  Do I feel better now that I have gotten a good night's sleep?  No, because we will have another walk to take, and my hands easily get cold.