I look out into the yard, and I watch my years slip before me. I recall being a young pup, and I feel the snow slipping between my toes. I smell the fear and exhilaration of sledding down the hill as the masters held me on their young laps.
Time passes by, and I stare out into the yard, unsure of what has truly changed and what has remained the same. My relationship with snow has been tumultuous, and I find myself growling, barking, and wagging my tail in an inexplicable combination of joy and frustration.
Do I loathe the feel of Winter, or do I welcome its reminder of what once was?
My aching bones no longer know the answer, and I gaze into the past, the present, and the future worth my blinded eye; all I see is a haze of unknown recollections.