Why are you throwing snow on my head?

Sometimes I wonder what Drake would say if he could talk.

Today I think he would have asked me why I was throwing shovels-full of snow at him.

I can't help but be sad about where he might have been this time last year. As I deck the halls, the walls, the windows, doors, his crate... I wonder if he was out in the frosty wide open. Struggling to stay alive. Or maybe he was in a mansion in Nashville. With little kids swinging from his floppy ears. I will never know. But now he's here. unamused by being buried in snow, getting it caught in his paws, me trying to get him to eat it.

There are just some things I can't do for him. "Butter will have to teach you how to play in the snow" I told him.

But can she teach him this?