Even more snow!

Bing’s nose knows snow

Bingley has seen snow before, so this time round he didn’t spend quite as much time trying to catch the flakes as they fell. Though I should add that during the last hail storm he did snap at the icy kibble as it ricocheted off the floor – he must have thought someone was throwing him big bags of treats!

But although he’s seen snow before it’s never been in the same volume as we’ve had this Christmas. On our first snowy walk across the playing field, as soon as his legs sank knee deep he immediately went into bum-tuck mode. In fact bum-tuck doesn’t do justice to the five foot leaps and twisty spins. It would have been even more amazing, and probably even funnier, if he hadn’t still been on-lead at the time!

Bing’s unbridled enthusiasm extends to anything which he likes and deep snow is no exception. It didn’t take him long to figure out that the best way to catch a thrown ball was to run after it as he normally would, but then instead of just scooping it up as usual (an impressively energetic feat at the best of times) he found that the deep snow would provide the perfect cushion for a belly-flopping dive at the end. He’s been doing this over and over again for the past few days, throwing up great spumes of snow as he leaps onto the ball and turning himself into a chocolate Dalmatian in the process.

But even when he wasn’t throwing his entire body into the snow he couldn’t resist getting up close and personal. Do smells smell different in the snow? Smellier and more enticing? I don’t know; but Bingley has certainly been on some heavy duty sniffing sessions over the past few days.

When he first stuck his entire head into a snow drift, we thought it was a fluke: just Bingley being Bingley. But then it happened again and again. A gentle sniff of the surface was sometimes enough to satisfy his curiosity. But some smells clearly required closer examination and time and again his muzzle up to his ears would completely disappear into the snow, leaving behind a perfect nose print as he walked away. Sometimes though the smells would be especially tantalizing and he would then try following the scent, pushing his nose along the ground and churning up the surface like some sort of canine snow plough.

Snow dives and nose prints are what we’ll remember most about the past few days. Though I have to say that the bum-tuck which almost had me on my bum is hard to beat, and the first sight of Bingley disappearing into a snow drift was certainly another classic example of the Bingcredible!

Return to Horsey Hill

Polar Bing

Snow shadows

Sleeping B'zzz

Snow Bing

The wooden hill

It won’t come as any surprise to learn that by this stage Bingley can trot up a set of stairs with absolute and unhesitating ease. Several of our daily walks take us up or down flights of long steps which he never balks at; and whilst in York we got caught out by the flooding and, having to change the walk we’d planned, we found ourselves having to negotiate some very steep steps up onto the old city walls. Bing handled that one with absolute, though cautious, equanimity.

You’d think then, that those early days when he shied away at the mere sight of a set of steps would be a distant memory by now; but instead we’re reminded of them every day.

Bingley still can’t climb up our own staircase! Instead he’ll put his front paws on the second tread and forlornly watch as we disappear upstairs. In his favour I should add that these days, after we’ve turned onto the landing and disappeared from his sight, he’s at least stopped trying to follow us by running into the kitchen to see where we’ve gone!

I should also mention that our stairs are especially steep, uncarpeted, and painted a deep lighthouse green. Very nautical and nice to look at (though they need a new coat of paint, especially on the bottom treads where Bingley’s front paws have tap danced away much of the paint) but to Bingley they probably resemble a cliff face.

That bottom-step tap dance is about as close as he gets to climbing upstairs. Instead he’ll patiently wait until one of us makes an appearance, then he’ll leap up and do a version of an enthusiastic Mexican Wave as we come downstairs again.

His reserves of patience aren’t vast, of course. If he thinks we might be getting ready to go out for a walk, he’s happy to wait but not for long. If we look downstairs at that point we’ll just see two big paws and a muzzle peeping around the lounge doorway, as he lies there waiting.

But if we’re taking too long about things, I have to say that we’ll get a reminder that he’s there. He rarely barks these days; instead we’ll hear a barely audible whine as tries to tell us that we’re being too slow. These Bing chimes remind me of those early days when he was practising his khöömei; it’s like having a little wind harp in the hallway.

Being mercenary we haven’t helped him to realise that he could bound up our staircase in a couple of leaps. Though we love being with him, it’s still nice to have part of the house as a Bing-free zone. And anyway, going back down that glassy staircase would be treacherous for somebody who doesn’t have non-slip footwear.

Still, it can only be a matter of time before the penny drops and we hear those paws pounding along the landing. Safety aside, I must admit that I long for that time. A Bing-free zone is all well and good, but I miss him even when he’s just downstairs.