Riley does not think we have too much snow, but I do

This morning I let the dogs out, as usual, at about 5:45 a.m. Usually they do their business within seconds, sniff at the rabbit tracks, and then leap back onto the porch and wait to be let inside. Boscoe stays quiet, and if you forget to open the door he'll stand patiently for a very long time. Riley, who does not like his needs to go unmet, will bark once, politely, a gruff Woof.

It was snowing hard at 5:45 and now, at 8:45, harder still. We have gotten so much snow this season, and unlike many years, there's been no real thaw and so none of it has gone away. It packs down after awhile, but mostly it is just snow on top of snow on top of snow.

We have a white picket fence around our back yard, and even though it is only about four feet high, Riley--who could so easily jump it--has never done so. He stays in the yard. That's his territory. He did escape from Lo's yard twice when she was taking care of him--her yard has an 8-foot fence that dips to 6 feet at one point, which is the point at which Riley managed to leap, and claw, and drag himself over. But he had a good reason:  Lo had taken Boscoe somewhere, and Riley did not want to be left behind.

This morning, as I said, I let them out, and by 6 they still weren't at the door, so I went out on the porch to see what they were doing. I suspected they were eating rabbit pellets, as they sometimes like to. Boscoe was standing helplessly at the bottom of the porch stairs--they were covered with snow, and he knew they were too slick for his shaky legs to manage.  So I got a broom and swept them off and he backed up and took a running start and made it to the top.

But Riley I could not see anywhere. I called for him. I whistled (quietly--it was, after all, six in the morning). I rattled the lid of the cookie jar. And then I heard him bark in reply--a sharp, agitated bark. A bark that said, "Help me!"

And then I saw him--saw his face, anyway. It was rising up on the other side of the fence. It reached its apogee, he barked once, and then it descended rapidly. This happened two or three times before my slow and not yet caffeinated brain made sense of the situation: He had somehow crossed the fence, which is now only about a foot high in that spot instead of four, and was now trapped in our neighbors' yard, bouncing up and down, unable to get back across.

So I had to slip on my boots and run out the front door and lead him out of the yard. When he finally got oriented, he ran quick as a shot back to his own safe place.

Still, he does not think we have had too much snow, as this little movie below will show you. Me? I think we have reached our limit.