I ski over to pick up Spencer, wondering how he’ll adjust to the new “me”. Mr. Ever-ready darts out the door and stops to stare suspiciously at the skis lying in his driveway. He notices everything new. “What the Hell are those?” his cocked head implies.
We head down the road, I mean, literally down the road as it slopes towards the lake, and Spencer, intuitively, knows to stay well ahead and out of range of my noisy skis and my poles screeching in the ice. As I ski faster than I can walk, he’s already running and having a whale of a time. I’m already out of breath!
Spencer being bribed. Note the elegant red coat and black boots!
We head over to the summer park where I try to entice him into deeper snow, cutting a trail for him to follow. No way, José. He obviously remembers our last foray into deep snow and how long it took his nether parts to thaw out! He won’t even approach when I dangle a treat! I turn back and we follow the snow mobile trail for a while but ever vigilant as those maniacs come winging along at 100+ mph and we don't want to get caught skiing on their trail.
Off the ski-mobile track, we figure-eight our way around the park and its various streets, down Hardwood, around Lakefront, up Evergreen, along Roadside (no, I’m not making these names up!), down Woodside, along Red Maple Lane, and past Summerside.
We run into Pierre and Flo, just back from Cuba, and looking, well, let’s face it: just a tad shell-shocked at the cold and snow. Flo points out Spencer’s lost a bootie. Darn! Hopefully someone will spot it and pick it up. I retrace my steps but no luck. This might put a damper on our future walks as once impacted, those hard, little snowballs between one’s toes are no fun for Spence.
I drop him off and swallow two of Ron's beers in short order. Boy, I love the look of crossed X-country skis leaning outside my door. What incentive!
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