I don’t enjoy this either, little dog. I’m holding Aki over the bathroom sink trying to move one of her front legs into the faucet stream. It, like her other three legs, is covered with snowballs. Better this, than having me pull them off.This reminder does nothing to reduce her resistance. 

            Aki picked up her snowballs running on new snow that covered the Perseverance Trail. She could have avoided them by staying on the packed portion of the trail. But, as she would say if she could, what would be the fun in that? While she gamboled and nosed into the snow, I took stock of the day. Mist ghosts climbed up the side of Mt. Juneau.  New snow lay crowed onto the tops of cottonwood limbs and the rocks lining Gold Creek.  Looking down the valley we could see dark, anvil-shaped clouds, about to deliver our next dump of snow. 

            Still standing over the bathroom sink, I manage to remove all Aki’s snowballs and dry her off. Her paws are moving before I can manage to drop her onto the floor. We meet at the back door, where she is waits for her post-walk treat.