A spaniel in the snow

You might not guess it, but this vast suburban zone in northeast Illinois, colloquially known as "Chicagoland", is a wonderful place for dogs.  It is liberally wooded, and interspersed with forest and wildlife preserves that are popular, yet somehow never crowded. For water dogs, there are lakes and rivers in abundance and the variety of wildlife guarantees a cornucopia of intriguing scents to thrill the hunter in any dog.

Moreover, people here simply love dogs, ensuring that parks administration and municipal rules and bylaws are uniformly dog-friendly (they are all elected officials, after all).  My little village doesn't even require dogs to be licensed or registered - those who do, typically charge only a few dollars a year; barely enough to cover the cost of the tags.

Small surprise, then, that in the fall of 2001, seduced at last by the dog-oriented culture, it seemed the perfect time and place for me to become a first-time dog owner.  Anyone who has ever met one surely knows that glow of joy and sense of privilege that only a puppy or a new baby can engender.  But unlike babies, puppies interact from the start with endless fun and exuberant love, and are already well on the way to taking control of your life before they have had their first breakfast with you - and you don't mind at all. 

All that season, I delighted at Errol's excited curiosity about everything.  He chased the wind-blown leaves of autumn and invented the game of "Fetch" without any prompting or demonstration.  He wanted to fetch every toy he owned (I blushingly confess he had 16 in the first two weeks, after which shame dictated I stop counting), but he soon chose a favourite - a weighty red ball almost his puppy size, attached to a thick, knotted rope.  He would seize the rope and try to run back to me in a straight line, but fail every time.  The heavy ball, acting as a counterweight, alternately swung him violently from side to side; spun him in circles; and bowled him over.  His progress, in consequence, was slow and erratic and had me in stitches every time. None of it bothered him; he just loved the game - but to say he took all the knocks in stride would be a side-splitting misstatement, albeit metaphorically true.

Then came the snow. 

After three Chicago winters, I thought I knew what to expect and that I was well kitted out.  I gave little thought to the fact that my experience was based on being able to limit my exposure to unheated air to no more than a minute or two at a time.  Now, if the abstract notion of minus 25C with an effective wind chill of minus 40 doesn't mean anything to you, then come to Chicago in January.  And dress for the North Pole.  Seriously.

Errol adores the cold.  It puts him in high gear at full throttle. He loves to traverse fields of deep, drifted snow, leaping like a dolphin above the surface, then disappearing again into the powder.  He'll face-sled along the snow, one cheek, then the other, before rolling around on his back, making doggy snow angels; all the while grinning hugely, tongue lolling and gazing at me rapturously as if to say: "Isn't this heaven?"  Well, it certainly does warm my heart to see him so happy, but while every other part of my anatomy is freezing?...  No, Errol, Illinois in winter is not my idea of heaven.

When I say I have a snow dog, you might imagine a husky, an Alaskan Malamute, or perhaps one of those majestic mastiffs of the Pyrenees and Swiss Alps.  Errol is none of those.  However, his dense and silky American cocker spaniel coat with built-in ear muffs and ugg boots makes him impervious to even the cruellest arctic wind-chill that sweeps these plains, and his big paws supply amazing traction on the slickest ice (though curiously - and hilariously - not on the hardwood floors of my house). 

The latter quality makes walkies a perennial winter hazard - I have too often been up-ended painfully on to my back on an icy path by Errol's whimsical tendency to dart off in quest of a fresh squirrel scent or some other irresistible (and invariably invisible - hence the surprise factor) distraction.  This, of course, only adds injury to the insult of the mind-numbing freeze that must be endured, in the dark, at the coldest ends of the day, to give Errol his territorial prowl.  I want to tell him not to dawdle; come inside, where it's warm.  But I can't do it.  Not because I'm a softie who doesn't want to spoil his fun; but because I can't open my mouth - it's frozen shut.

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phoebe   #1   12:40 pm Jan 18 2010

What a beautifully written expressive story, and Errol's photo really shows him off. Love his colouring!. Interesting too to hear about the dog park and no registration needed, it would be great if NZ evolved far enough to be able to do that Thanks Phil for this story from your country

Angie   #2   12:43 pm Jan 18 2010

What a lovely story. Errol is certainly a lucky boy to have such a dedicated Dad. My 2 'boys' have never seen snow and I wonder how they would react to it. I suspect they would take one look and retire to the comforts of the couch and/or fireplace. It is currently supposed to be summer in NZ however, due to global warming, this has been the coldest and wettest summer in years (at least in Wellington anyway), so I am expecting to find out before too long!!

Angela Hook   #3   02:24 pm Jan 18 2010

Oh how our two Rhodesian Ridgebacks would love to have hit the genetic jackpot of built in ear muffs and slippers. We live in an alpine climate and after days of pushing our male Ridgeback outside to check his pee-mail through the coldest part of winter we invested invested in New Zealand Merino dog jackets (Ice-Barkers) for them. It would be a stretch to say they now loved the snow, and I don't expect them to make snow angels any time soon, but they at least now will walk outside in the snow and let off some of their energy. Errol (now that's what I call a name for a dog) is hugely lucky to have such a fabulous life.

mchaggis   #4   04:47 pm Jan 18 2010

Wonderful story Phil. Many thanks for sharing Errol's winter antics with us. I for one, look forward to hearing more about your dear little friend and his activities.

GCR   #5   12:23 pm Jan 19 2010

Love the last photo Phil, is that watching reruns of Lassi or Rin Tin Tin?

Phil Barnett   #6   04:07 am Jan 20 2010

Thank you all for your appreciation. I am very relieved not to have disgraced this lovely and popular blog! I feel very lucky to have in Errol not only a loyal and entertaining companion, but also an inspiring subject and muse. Over the eight years he has been with me, I have learned so much from Errol, and accumulated many anecdotes - as all dog owners do - that I would be more than happy to commit to paper and share whenever an opportunity occurs.

I have learned through a friend of a friend who read my article that snow-euphoria is a common spaniel attribute (or failing, depending on your point of view). I also see many dogs wearing smart winter coats and was delighted to hear from Angela (#3) that my homeland manufactures alpine-quality dog-wear. Kiwis have always known that sheep should not have a monopoly on wool and have developed countless practical and stylish uses for that miracle fibre. I'm sure nothing could be better for a cold-averse dog.

GCR (#5); Errol is not a TV-watcher. The direction and casual mien of his gaze suggests the window and perhaps some benign bird activity - anything in the mammal family would have forced me to snap Errol standing at the window in clamorous indignation!

Joan   #7   10:46 pm Jan 20 2010

Wow, that is one stunning dog friendly place. How do I get a residency permit?!!

Phil Barnett   #8   08:46 am Jan 21 2010

Joan #7: Try barking ;-)

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