My Dog the Yeti: Effects of the Blizzard

After our morning blizzard walk, the dog and I hit the streets again mid-afternoon, shortly before NYC’s travel ban went into effect.

Upper Broadway was quiet.

On 108th Street, a flock of sparrows fluttered between bare branches and the shelter of a building’s decorative shrubbery.

Many more people were now in Riverside Park to sled on the fine slopes.

And yet the park had a ghostly look.

The dog contemplated the blizzard.

And I contemplated the dog, wondering what he sees.

A well-camouflaged squirrel munched on an unidentifable object.

Dark-eyed Juncos ventured out in search of food. 

Heading home, the streets were empty.

Inside our building, I discovered the dog had transformed into a yeti.

And if not a yeti, then what? I ask you. What is this creature? What?

Slowly, the dog returned to his canine form. 

Fully dog again and dry, the beast slept off the transformation.

The Blizzard and the Dog Walk

The dog must out.

Neither snow nor rain nor sleet nor gloom of night stays the dog and his walker from their appointed rounds.

We went out this morning around 8:30.

Riverside Drive is empty.

Inside the park, we spot a handful of sledders.

Deep inside my beautiful retaining wall, the raccoons are nestled all snug in their beds.

The windblown dog is happy in the park (though he may not look it here).

But where is everyone?

Back at home, snow, snow and snow.