Luna's First Snow

Luna had been in the house for exactly eleven days when the first snow of winter arrived. She had spent those eleven days investigating every corner of the ground floor, learning that the kitchen tiles were cold and the living room rug was warm, that the cat next door was visible but inaccessible through the glass door, and that Jake's left sock was an excellent chew toy if she was quick about it.

She was eight weeks old. Her ears were still slightly too large for her head. Her paws were considerably too large for her legs. She was, Jake had told several people with obvious feeling, the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Jake woke at seven on Saturday morning to see the garden transformed under a blanket of white. He looked at Luna, who was watching him from her crate with wide blue eyes. He put on his coat over his pyjamas. He put on his boots. He opened the back door.

Luna approached the threshold carefully. The cold air hit her nose and she sniffed several times in rapid succession, processing this new information. She took one step forward and planted her front paw in the snow. She looked down at it. She looked up at Jake.

Then she sneezed. A tremendous, whole-body sneeze that sent her stumbling backwards a step. She shook her head, re-evaluated, and stepped fully outside.

What happened next Jake later described as 'a controlled explosion.' Luna leaped all four paws at once into the nearest patch of deep snow and vanished entirely — a small avalanche of white closed over her. Jake took one alarmed step forward before her head popped back up, covered in snow, expression one of absolute astonishment.

She spun. She rolled. She bit at snowflakes and seemed genuinely puzzled when they disappeared on her tongue. She discovered her own paw prints and barked at them with deep suspicion. She charged at a small pile of snow near the fence and came out the other side covered head to tail, looking stunned and delighted in equal measure.

Jake sat down on the back doorstep and watched her. He hadn't intended to stay outside long, but after twenty minutes he had stopped noticing the cold. After forty minutes he took out his phone and filmed her biting a falling snowflake with intense concentration, missing it by a clear two centimetres, then trying again immediately without any trace of discouragement.

They stayed outside for two hours. Jake lost feeling in three toes on his left foot. Luna showed no signs of wanting to come inside and had to be carried in eventually, which she tolerated without grace.

She ate her breakfast still damp and steaming slightly, then fell asleep on the rug with her nose pointing toward the door. As if even in sleep, she was keeping an eye on the snow. Just in case it did something interesting while she wasn't watching.