Many years ago I had a Tibetan terrier named Tookie. His name means “crazy” in Swedish and he lived up to his name many times. He was a small black and white dog but in his mind he thought he was a Great Dane. This was never more evident than in the winter time when there was a lot of snow on the ground. After snowstorms, I would go out and walk around the yard and make paths for him to walk in when the snow was too deep for him. Slogging through the snow in random directions and circles I’d wonder what the neighbors would think if they were watching me. After I’d go in to thaw out, I’d take Tookie outside so he could “do his business.” Usually he would stay in the pathways but one day something possessed him to climb onto the snowbank. I stood there watching his back legs working away trying to get up onto the snow. He finally made it and he stood there for a moment on top of the snow looking like he was the King of the mountain. His head was held up high and his tail was like a banner moving behind him in the wind. Then he took a step and immediately his front leg sank into the snow and he couldn’t move. The snow was too soft for him to push himself back up on top. He was stuck. Slowly he turned his head back towards me with a look in his eyes that just screamed, “Stop laughing and help me!” Yes, I was laughing at him, I was a bad doggy mommy I’ll admit it. But only for a few seconds. Then I picked him up and put him back onto the path. He wanted to get back in the house pretty quickly after that. He was cold and so was I. He never did leave a path in the snow again though. I guess he learned his lesson the first time.