Sometimes she likes to stand awhile, when she gets all the way from our bed to the outdoors. Walk around. Listen. Smell. Eat some snow. Last night she loved the feel of snow on her fur; on her face. She'd lift up her muzzle and close her eyes and feel the snowflakes falling on her. I stood nearby, watching her. Watching the dance of the snowflakes. Hypnotic. Seeing the individual snowflakes, small miracles, in her fur, freshly created, and freshly fallen, as we stood together, relishing the dark night.
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