We've either had snow, freezing rain or subzero temperatures every single day this week.
Look, I'm as big a fan of winter as they come. I love skiing, I love sledding, I love the pretty fairyland all that white stuff falling from the sky creates. I'm not afraid to drive in it and as long as the schools don't close their doors, depriving me of my few hours of respite from my offspring, I'm happy to go to work, go shopping, go wherever.
My animals, however, would really appreciate a break. Horses, despite any evidence to the contrary, believe that the moment the snow starts falling that they are going to starve to death. It doesn't matter how fat and shiny they happen to be, how many flakes of alfalfa and buckets of sweet feed they get, they are convinced that death is imminent. The moment they sight you in the window or hear the back door open, they rush the fence, then stare at you with haunted eyes. Its enough to make you lose sleep.
The dogs hate potty time, but since they refuse to learn to flush the toilet, outdoors it is. And the big fella, the nearly 100-pound brute, has gotten it into his brain that he is somehow too weak and fragile to go outside to pee in the snow. He stands at the door, looking at me with reproach in his eyes. I can't go out there. Yes, yes you can. No, I can't. I'll die. I'll freeze. The snow might eat me. Look, buddy, I don't care if your pecker falls off from the cold, you're going OUT THERE to do your thing. You are the meanest human being that ever lived. I know, my offspring remind me of that fact approximately every thirty seconds. Now go. Out. Go. Fine, I'll go. But I'm peeing on your lawn chair, here.
When is spring again?