Straight out of Old Man Winter’s icy butt crack, Alberta has hit a painful cold snap. By tomorrow night, it’s supposed to be -47 Celsius with the wind chill. This is true prairie cold. We don’t talk outside right now because it makes our teeth ache. I’m very careful my hands are completely dry before I try to open the door to let the dog out, or I’ll freeze my skin to the door handle just enough to really sting. I haven’t asked him, but I’m quite certain Sherman’s turds are hitting the ground frozen, then bouncing across the snow like golf balls.
Luckily for the mammals, their outside time is minimal right now. Actually, Leroy never goes outside at all, but hides under the little stool The Electrician made for me last Valentine’s Day, which is currently positioned perfectly to contain the heat from the kitchen vent, like so.
Sherman is shaking so hard in the backyard that he can barely cock his back leg to pee. I guess that’s what happens to a short-haired dog in this kind of cold. Part of me feels bad for the poor guy, and part of me thinks if he spent less time sniffing around for the right spot to make his deposit and just cut to the chase, he wouldn’t have to suffer outside quite as long.
Either way, he’s always very happy to get back inside and cuddle up in his chair. See his smug grin?
Please send hot chocolate and long johns. It’s going to be a long, teeth chattery week.
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