Olive is feeling much better and was thrilled to see the five inches or so of snow we got this bright morning. Although she prefers days where she can lie on her side on the lawn and bake like a hearty Maine potato, she takes great pleasure zipping back and forth through the snow. It makes her so happy, she runs around like a child who just slipped out of their diapers and is racing through the house reveling in their nakedness. Of course, the first thing she does is stop to eat gobs of snow. As much as she can jam into her mouth. She looks like a diabetic who has just uncovered a stash of spice drops and Skittles and tries to devour them before the Nurse takes them away. After she’s done dining on snowballs, she proceeds to use her nose as a plow, shoveling it into all the foot tracks around us—mine and her own. I stand there immobile like a frozen winter scarecrow because if I move, she just “tracks” me across the lawn. She looks up at me and her nose is covered with fresh downy snow. It looks as though she’s been eating powdered donuts. My heart melts when I see this. She looks like a child who has just raised their head from the bowl of ice cream they’ve been eating to reveal a nose covered in chocolate. This tender anthropormorphic moment abruptly ends when Olive breaks into a run and bolts. (This is the outdoor version of how she behaves indoors when she sees one of her little white pills in my hand.) She’s on her flexi-leash but she’s galloping in wide unbroken circles across the lawn again and again. To her, snow is a playmate. In the distance, a dog barks. The wind blows snow through the air like it’s sand. I am freezing because I am still standing in the same spot like a traffic light. I am just happy that Olive is feeling better and enjoying this moment. Crystals of snow have formed on her whiskers and her chin, accentuating their definition. “HEY OLIVE. ARE YOU AWARE THAT RIGHT NOW YOU LOOK LIKE AN OLD BAVARIAN GRANDMOTHER?” As if to punctuate my sentence, Olive immediately squats and pees.