Fall is dog season; in my experience it's the only time of the year the dogs and I agree completely on the utter joy of being outdoors. Spring, for all its rejuvenating energy, is mud season in these parts and though I welcome its warmth and renewal, I dread the muck and mess the dogs drag in. Summer, my time of year, is when my darling canine partners seek out the nearest shade tree and look at me like the reptilian throw-back I may well be. And winter...the bitterness of these past few days, the killing, bone-cracking cold...every instinct my hardy ancestors passed along to me says "get thee inside near a fire!"

And indeed I would, for I respect my ancestors, those tough opportunists. But, the dogs have other ideas. My dogs have grown coats that render them impervious. Not only impervious, they are audaciously, recklessly celebratory of this season. There is no question they are happiest in winter. They grin. They frolic. They bound and roll and plow and spin and make noises I do not hear at any other time of the year. They are in their full glory in the snow.

Because of the dogs, I pry myself away from the radiant heater that keeps life in my bones this time of year. I put layers over layers, a vest over those layers, struggle to zipper a shell over the vest, cram my fists into my pockets and curse as I leave the relative comfort of my fifty degree house. The curses cease when the wind rips the very breath from my lungs. Fingers stiffen in the short distance from house to kennel so that putting a collar on a dog becomes a battle, particularly when I’m hampered by the cumbersome layers and the dog is jazzed for the walk it anticipates. Said dog then launches itself with rapturous abandon, yanking my frozen limbs nearly out of my boots. I beg, I plead, I implore them not to make me move so fast when my muscles are still in a state of shock; I whine, I whimper, my eyes actually tear (it’s that cold!). I act altogether unlike any kind of dog trainer should act…

But then, a mile or so down the cold dark road, a transition occurs. At first that’s because I become so numb all over that I no longer perceive discomfort. But another mile or so further and I am entranced by the sky. This time of year there is a lingering light that creates colors in the dusk and early evening that is unequaled at other times. The depth and range of blue just after sunset lifts the eyes and thus the mind; no longer is this an exercise in physical endurance, being out in this cold inspires awe, awakens wonder. As Parrish blue bleeds into azure and cobalt, and finally indigo becomes obsidian, the miles click by and the dog and I become extensions of one another. His body movements reveal the presence of creatures I would otherwise have no means of recognizing. The excitement with which he responds to a vole differs enormously from the out-of-his-mind scrambling that scent of a deer evokes. Coyotes bring the hackles up, bear bring him right alongside me, a deep rumble of fear in his chest. We plunge on in the darkness, senses zinging.

By the time we get home a couple of hours later, I am so invigorated that I want to take a couple more dogs out. Cold? Pshawww! I am Woman, descendant of cave woman…tamer of wolves, walker of dogs…a little cold is a tonic for my strong body!

Now, where’s my hot tea and radiant heater….???