The two pups were crying at the back door, wanting to go out and play as the big flakes continued to fall, so who was I to say no? I mean, you have to let a dog be a dog sometimes, really.
Bernie and Quinn (she had that name long before Marko's kid did...) dug and dug and dug, looking for absolutely nothing in particular. That continued in earnest until their feet got too cold, at which time they decided they had accomplished quite enough, and promptly came back inside.
Both pups have done amazingly well since departing Florida's hot and humid climate in 2006, putting on weight, no ticks or fleas, and their coats are absolutely luxurious. The fact that I have a bumper crop of cottontails residing in my back yard has not gone unnoticed by the Chow-Spitz, either. (Think along the lines of a Maverick missile with a faulty guidance system...)
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