This year, things have been quite different.  It started snowing Christmas day (our very first white Christmas at Long Shadows) and snowed on and off for a week.  There were patches of snow for almost two weeks.   Then on January 27, it started snowing again.  It snowed fast and furious.  It snowed relentlessly.  Within only a few hours the snow was 8 inches deep.  Shortly the excitement of the storm was replaced by the reality of what it means to live in snow country  -  we lost electrical power.  The weight of the wet snow toppled trees throughout the county.  And we have some mighty tall trees here.  Thousands of people were without power.  Not an uncommon or unexpected happening in Oregon in the winter.  Our fireplace is the primary source of heat, so staying warm was not a problem.  There is always a supply of candles and oil lamps, so the house was aglow with the soft warm light.  We can cook, even Cajun-style, on the gas barbecue.

 

Thibodeaux, our dog, however, had his own set of problems.  Every foray into the beautiful white powder meant dreaded snowballs would develop in his long silky fur.   They start out tiny then mushroom to golf ball sized or even as big as oranges.  The snowballs pull his hair and as they twist and turn they create dreadlocks in his fur, and bang against the inside of his legs as he walks.   He loves the snow but hates the snowballs.  And it's no small chore to remove them.  It takes 30 minutes with a hair dryer, and much longer when removed by hand.  If we leave the dog in the garage to just melt on his own, it takes hours.  By the time they melt, it's time to go back outside again and the process of dealing with snowballs becomes endless. 

We love walking in the snow, but that means either break the dog's heart by leaving him at home, or take him along and subject him to snowball torture. So Dianne put on her old systems analyst hat and came up with a very simple solution.  The dog needs a snowsuit!  With no electricity to sew, we had to fabricate one from items at hand.  Two old long-sleeved tee-shirts safety-pinned together should work.  Pull the sleeves up so they are short enough.  Tie the two shirts together.  Leave openings in appropriate places.  Simple.

 

Well, it seemed like a good idea in the warmth of the laundry room as we shoved and poked and pinned the poor little guy into the thing.   It fit perfectly -- well, as perfect as could be considering the circumstances.  So with everybody decked out in snow protection garb, we headed out to experience the beauty of nature. 

 

    

We did not own 2 shirts the same color.                               The topknot is where the two shirts are connected.

 

The walk began:  Oops, a pin popped loose.  That was before we made it to the end of our driveway.  That's okay, it didn't fall off, just a shirt sleeve drooped down and the dog was walking on the elbow of the sleeve.  Not to worry!   Damn pins - another one sprang open.  No, make that 3 sprang open.  Did we mention that there were maybe 14 pins and a couple rubber bands holding this thing together?  Okay, so the execution was not perfect.  Where are these lousy pins made anyway?  There are always a few kinks in the proto-type.

 

Uh Oh!  Oh NO!  This is not working.  Nature called and the dog just peed on his pants.  Okay, when the power comes back on, we can wash it.  Not a problem.  This is not going to ruin the walk.  Dog!   How many times are you going to pee?  The wet pants are beginning to sag.

 

Drat!  There goes another pin.  The back legs are now caught in the elbow of the sleeves and the dog has pulled the lower tee shirt down off his butt.  YUCK!   We have to pin this peed-on thing back on him?  Of course, we are a mile from home in deep snow.  On the bright side, not a single snowball has appeared anywhere on the dog.  Of course, our hands are frozen.  It's impossible to operate a safety pin with gloves on.  Better not stick the dog either because he will never allow us within 10 yards of him again if we do!

 

The snow is not as much fun as it was earlier.   Our fingers may fall off from the cold.  The dog stinks.  And we still have a long walk back home and yes, it is UPHILL (really) in the snow!

 

Home at last!   The peed-upon tees are hanging on a fencepost outside.  We all wait for the power to return.  We wait.  It snows.  We wait.  It snows.  The next time the dog has to go potty, he is on leash.  We control exactly where he goes, since there is virtually no snow under the trees.  AH!  A safe, snowball-less trip into the snow.  We wait through second dark evening.  Then suddenly it happens.  The lights come on, the refrigerator starts to hum, the world is energized.  WE HAVE POWER!  It has taken only 30 hours. 

 

Next day:  Still snowing. It's 16" deep, and the dog's belly is 12" off the ground, the car's belly is 10 inches off the ground.  Time to create a real snowsuit before the power goes out again.  Grabbing scissors, tape measure, and a scrap of polyester and we went after the dog.  Though Thibodeaux is a well behaved little guy, he HATES for anyone to mess with his feet.  To make something as complicated as a snowsuit meant trying it on him dozens of times, tugging his paws in and out of the legs each time.  He tolerated it amazingly well.  Six hours later, the masterpiece was done.  The tee shirt thing had so many problems caused by the fact it was WAY too big.  Uh-oh we appeared to have over-compensated, and the polyester garment was a tad tight.  BUT, it did actually fit the dog.   It had openings in all the right places.  It had a zipper and not a single #$%^&% safety pin.  It had elastic bands around each wrist.  It was magnificent!

 

Oh, did I mention that the piece of fabric we found was RED?

 

 

 

 

 

Remember we said it was a little tight?  Well, when the dog lifted his leg, the suit sort of pulled a little and he almost did a back flip.  Balance had to be relearned when wearing the red suit.  Walking down steps was even more complicated for the little guy, but he managed.

 

The next day, now that the dog is snowball proof, we head out for a real walk in the snow.  This time the trip is about 3 miles.  And yes, half of it is UPHILL in even deeper snow!  The dog dashes here and there, jumping over small downed trees.  He is having the time of his life and no painful snowballs to spoil the fun.  Prancing through the deep spots.  Lifting his leg at will.  The farther we go downhill, the more the snow has melted, the more mud and slush we encounter.  Not a problem for Superdog in his Wonder suit!  Black gravel grit and road grim cover the suit, but the dog inside is well protected.  We had a great walk.

 

It is a week later and the snow is still here.  It is deep enough that today we got the tractor temporarily stuck while bringing firewood to the house.  (What's ten inches of snow to a Deere?)  Thibodeaux pranced around with us as we shoveled snow.  He prances because he can't walk normally.  He hates the suit.  He picks up his legs with each step like he is a Tennessee Walking horse.  A neighbor had the nerve to call him a little French girl.  Okay, he may look silly, but he has NO snowballs.  He is clean and dry when he comes inside.  Laughter and jeering is really a small price to pay for being snowball-less. 

 

 

A day of firewood hauling and snow shoveling.  (That's Dianne shoveling.  Notice the short sleeves?  You know what they say about firewood - it warms you twice.  As far as we're concerned it warms you half a dozen time at least!)  The firewood is UNDER snow (also under a tarp) since the woodshed blew over a month ago.  We never dreamed that one day we would have to dig out firewood!

 

  

 

 At the end of the workday everybody comes inside, hangs up their wet clothes to dry, and settles down for the evening.

 

So ends another day in the life of the silky haired dog in the RED POLYESTER SNOWSUIT.