First Snow

Among the many breeds of dog that are Hamilton's ancestors is a breed with webbed paws. Early on my wife and I noticed the webbing between his three toes and anticipated a water dog happy to frolic in lakes and streams. Not.

And it's not just bodies of water he abhors. He hates rain fall of any type. Drizzles to down pours cause the same reaction -- " I'm not budging an inch. I want to go home."

On the other hand, snow he loves. We was eight months old when he experienced his first snow fall. Nearly a foot of snow fell on the city. It came down so fast that the city had to prioritize clean up and the Financial District of Manhattan, where we live, fell to the bottom. It was a weekend and traffic was expected to be light.

On those rare winter days when there is heavy snow in the city it is a spiritual sensation to be outside. The stillness of the Financial District is eerie in this constantly rebuilding quarter of narrow, colonial- designed streets. The storm left a shining cover of snow, clean and white.

Hamilton pounced on the snow in delight again and again. Joyfully he threw himself into the snow drifts covering the silent streets. From above you would have seen two dark figures spotting the snow cover; one figure standing still, the other disappearing and then breaking through the snow, leaving a trail of indentations.

You would have seen Hamilton stop and patiently wait for me. I would use his trail to navigate the deep snow towards him, then bend down and hold him tight. Soon the snow would melt, the traffic would be back and there would be rain.