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ruthless compassion
22 December 2010 @ 02:25 pm
My parents are dogsitting for a friend for a few days. The dog -- Dash -- is super friendly and mellow, other than occasionally barking when he hears someone at the door (and sometimes when he mistakes a bedroom or bathroom door opening for someone coming in).

Being a dog, Dash has a tennis ball that he really likes chasing. Even in the snow! In fact, I think the snow might make it even more fun for him, because it take so much longer each time. I'll throw the ball for him, and he'll root around in the snow for several minutes trying to uncover it. Once he finds it, he'll fling it around a bunch of times out of sheer exuberance. Then he brings the snow-covered tennis ball back to me, drops it, and pushes it toward my feet with his nose for me to throw it again.

This is what he looked like about halfway through a session:



By the time we were done, he was nearly covered in tiny snowballs, clinging to his fur all over his legs, belly and face.

Yay, snow! says Dash.
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I'm feeling: chipperchipper