Back from a mush with the Moose Puppy who reportedly is part malamute. All 110 pounds of him. And with each of those K-9 ounces, he loves the snow. And snow here, there is, in the home of “The World Champion Chicago Cubs.”

Not a go at a world class snow. Maybe a miserly four inches since last night, but the weather people are chirping another eight to twelve will be added throughout the rest of the day and evening.

Coda, our puppy, is now five years old. And his moniker hints that he’s to be my last dog, as I’ve reached the age in which the only thing I want to alpha up is a leather club chair.

Navigating double digit inches of snow and wind chill of twenty below no longer adds up as I quickly approach that three score and ten.

I admit that I initially lobbied against Coda sharing our abode. But Snz was quick to be courted by the little doe eyed bastard, and he was a rescue, an orphan like you…Susan pushed back. (In truth, Susan would never play that card so brazenly…but she knows I claim to have an ear for subtext)

And here we are, a half a decade later. And it’s almost winter. And it’s snowing. And the high temperature mid-week will be, a can’t wait for spring training, 10 Degrees. The High!

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