Skip to main content

Fido & Me — Ski Season

November 9, 2012

“IT’S SKI SEASON! Hey hey hey hey!”

“Whoa, Fido, don’t get all in a lather, you know? Yes, the ski area is open, but just take a look!”

We were on the deck on a sunshiny day early in the week. Temps were September-ish. The October snow was all but gone on the side streets, walkways and south-facing curbsides. From where we sat, Lincoln Mountain looked a bit thin and the cold air was only in the forecasts.

“Woo-hoo!” Fido cried. “A little summertime before the ski season never hurt anybody,” he said. “Anyway, I’ve been looking forward to this for so long.”

“How long, Fido?”

“Since … umm, I don’t know! I’m a dog. No sense of time at all.”

“And what do you like about the opening of ski season so much?” I wanted to know.

“Because every day is Opening Day during the ski season!”

“Maybe you want to explain that?”

“It takes a dog to make a village!” he said out of nowhere. “Forward! I like Ike! All the way with LBJ and Nixon’s the One!”

“Get to the point, Fido. Scheez.”

“See, when it doesn’t snow so much in early November, the humans get all in the dumps, and then when it finally snows, it’s like Opening Day, one more time! It doesn’t matter a bit if the ski hill has 20 feet of snow on it, if it doesn’t snow, people get all in the dumps again.”

“And …?”

“And then on the next snowfall, it’s Opening Day, all over again. Don’t ask me why. It can go on until May this way!”

“Well, that’s the truth, Old Man. Remember last June, when a big snowstorm closed all the passes?”
“That was funny,” Fido said. “Everybody on the Hound Council was in a dither about a No-Snow year, but it snowed a lot in the spring.”

“Just not in time for any of the holidays, you mean.”

“Meh.”

“Fido, did you just say ‘Meh?’”

“Mostly I like Opening Days for the stuff that falls from the sky.”

“You mean snow?”

“No no no!” Fido yelped. “Stuff falls from the chairlifts!”

“Eh?”

“Last year I got a mobile phone, some car keys, a half-sandwich, a pair of doggles, 13 gloves, 11 mittens, two girls and a guy named Thor. But they walked away. Plus, I found a little, red notebook with a lot of phone numbers that began with 818. Some of the numbers had checkmarks by them.”

“Gad, Fido, maybe you should have turned in all that stuff to Lost-and-Found.”

Fido slumped into a sit. He sighed and turned his big browns skyward. He lifted his front paws and crossed them on his heart.

“Once, I was lost, and you found me at the shelter,” he whined. “Does that mean you’re going to take ME to the Lost-and-Found?”

“Not the same thing, you big red lug, not by a long shot. But still, maybe we should take that stuff up to the Lodge, just in case someone is still looking for them.”

“How do I carry 13 gloves and 11 mittens?”

“I’ll help. We’ll put them in a box and take everything to the Lodge. I’ll tell them what happened.”
“Do you think they’ll believe you?”

“No, Fido, they won’t. But I believe you, and that’s what really counts.”

View more articles in:

Connect to Mammoth Times


Like us on Facebook
 
Follow us on Twitter

 

Classified Ads

Custom Search
Premium Drupal Themes by Adaptivethemes