We’ve learned some interesting things since it got really cold and started to snow earlier this month here in New Hampshire. For one, it now seems our American Eskimo breed dog, whom we named Toby back in August, might have a slightly more appropriate moniker if we had instead called him, oh, let’s say, Juan Valdez. That’s no disrespect intended for anyone south of the border, only our belated recognition of the increasingly evident fact that Toby and the word Eskimo seem to have little in common. But to go back to the beginning first……

Allow me to quote from a respected Eskimo dog owner’s guide: “There are few more breathtaking sights than an Eskie frolicking in the freshly driven snow. It will come as no surprise that Eskimo dogs like the cold.” Well, it darned sure came as a surprise to us. Until the latter part of November, I recall, Toby was happy to dash outside for a walk or run or to do his business. We could hardly wait for the cold and snow for our breathtaking experiences watching him frolic outdoors.

As I said, imagine our surprise when we opened the door for Toby to behold the season’s first snowfall. Frolic he didn’t. In fact, he studied the falling flakes for a few seconds, felt the winter chill coming in the door, and promptly turned around back into the house and his comfortable, warm bed. End of the planned walk. When he absolutely, positively had to go out for his constitutional, he did so pretty much the way most cats tip-toe into ground that is either wet generally distasteful. We began wondering if we had acquired a mis-labeled Eskimo dog.

No, it turns out., we had not. Toby is indeed an Eskimo, albeit one who has a genuine appreciation for things warm and comfy (like a pillow near the wood stove). In the last month or so he has made a modest adjustment to the snowy landscape. A couple of times, in fact, he’s taken a flying leap off the porch into the yard, aided by an icy patch that propelled him a bit faster than he expected, causing an amusing mis-timed landing. He’s also discovered that the ruts of tire tracks are a preferred path for outdoor trekking, and that doing one’s business can be safely and quickly accomplished in the snowbank right by the porch, avoiding the necessity of getting into the deep-snow yard.
He also has discovered that when the new snow blower is operating, it clears a very nice route for him which satisfies just about all of his outdoor needs with minimal attachment to actual snow.

So we’ve learned a new bottom line for our sweet, wonderful doggie: he will respond when called by the name “Juan” — do you suppose that sounds something like Toby in dog language? — and that coming back into the house after any outside adventure, no matter how brief, is a terrific excuse to eat. “Gimme’ me some more bacon, folks — I’m back!!”