Two Feet

          My toddler wants nothing to do with the cold white stuff outside. He looks at me with betrayal, closing his eyes and burring his face when the wind blows. But my dog loves the winter terrain; she was made for it.  I take them out together, hoping they will learn from eachother.
          My dog swims in two feet of dry snow.  A scent drives her down. With her snout deep underneath, she searches for a trail. Only her wagging tail is seen, until she resurfaces with light flakes lacing her furry face. Pure joy glitters in her eyes.
           My son watches her digging and searching. As if she is a big sister, he follows her lead. He toddles to a snowbank that could envelope him. With a sock covered hand, he scoops up some snow. He observes it carefully before shaking it off and diving in again. Bewilderment turns into curiosity which becomes joy. But only for a moment before cold moisture seeping through the cotton on his hands makes him cry again.