But not usually in November.
Sunday morning the wee dog got me up at 3:30, which is early even for him. He's growing fast, and I think the rest of him is growing faster than his bladder is, so he'll get thirsty and suck down a quart of water, but he can only hold it a few hours. And so we're back to the cow-milking hours that we so enjoyed when he was 10 weeks old.
Yes, he had to pee at 3:30. But last week when I took him out, the yard was full of snow. Wee dog was bedazzled. Big dog, who is a haystack of hair, was delirious. I said a bad word.
See, we were not supposed to get a snowstorm. The forecasts had just called for rain. I have a fabric sunblock cover on the kennel that I was planning to take down before the first snowstorm. I mean, I had a fabric cover on the kennel. The unexpected visitor did a nice job of taking the cover down for me.
Late-shedding deciduous trees also got caught by surprise.
I was shocked by the snow, but it was nothing compared to what baby dog Nipper felt. He's only six months old, so he's never experienced the stuff. If you've ever seen a puppy gobsmacked, it was that. Someone stole the lawn! What is all this? Where the hell am I supposed to pee NOW?!
Meanwhile, Big Arctic Dog was romping around the yard, like, Shine on me sunshine, walk with me world, it's a skippidity doo da day! I'm the happiest dog in the whole U.S.A.!
It was still coming down, heavy and wet, with an arctic wind that had probably started the whole mess in the first place. I hadn't even gotten the heavy coat out of storage yet, and I sure wished that I had done so minutes into our expedition.
A week and a lot of rain later, the snow is pretty much gone. Big Tralfaz the Dog is sad, stuffing his face into little piles that remain. Little Nipper won't be so amazed next time. It's almost a month until the start of winter. And I suspect it's going to be a long one.