Toady’s Love Affair
Toady is my boy. My love. My best buddy. Eight months out of the year he remains so. In the Spring, we frolic in the rain, and examine all of the green shoots that appear in the yard. In the Summer, we have ice cube wars, and tend the garden, and play fetch in the dark. In the Fall, we watch the geese fly over, hoping they won’t drop bombs on our heads, and we bask in the opportunity to cook hot food. Come Winter, Toady is no longer mine. He succumbs to the call of cold and snow and leaves me to mope despairingly in the house while he welcomes the air that turns his breath into frozen puffs of moisture. Bursting forth from his mouth like a dragon’s smoke.
He was built for Winter. He has thick, coarse fur, that repels moisture like car wax (no, we don’t put car wax on him). He has paws the size of a snack plate. He stands with his head at my hip, and I am not a short person. Snowmen, snow women, and snow children are no match for him. He is a machine of complete and unequivocal snow destruction. He tears them apart before they can even be made. When it comes to snowballs, he is ruthless. Running straight into the foray, launching himself into the air, and destroying the entire supply.
For most of the year he is my “Little Beany”. My cuddly, sweet, gentle, silly mama’s boy. But when the air starts to chill, and the wind starts to howl, and the ground turns white with frozen crystals, I am almost forgotten. The snow takes my place in his heart. But, I bravely swallow my pride and push through it knowing that after the snow turns to mud, he will come crawling back.
I can forgive him this, because he provides me with exuberant amounts of entertainment in the snow. I mean, take a look at the picture and tell me it isn’t absolute, pure, innocent bliss on his face.