'Cassidy' stands in the wintery mixture at dawn. The northerly winds are skin and mind numbing. The night becomes day and the clouds drift away. The big white dog sniffs the stormy air. Off to the side of the house the snow has piled a little. For the most part the accumulated snow is nothing more than a dusting of the stuff. Sun clears through the scudding cover of clouds. The wind does not quit. It is still only a 20 degree reading on the outside thermometer. The weather device is hung within the confines of the front porch away from the element of the wind. One cannot do a thing in such an environment. The llamas and horse have been fed and brought warmed-water in their buckets. They are in the shelter of the barn in their stalls. A nice feeling for me on such a Christmas Day.
The big, white, Pyrenees Mountain dog smells the blustery wind as if reminded of his ancient heritage. Does he think of a prodigious mountain range between France and Spain? Does he see the jagged peaks and snow-drifted boulders and the sides of ancient icy slopes? Does he sniff and ponder the whereabouts of the silver, black and gray coated Timber Wolf? Does he remember the primordial call of his wild ancestors? Does 'Cassidy' know more than I could ever believe that he does? I'd say, 'Yes, yes indeed.'
We stand together on this morning of the child; Jesus. I need no prayer or church or bible to know this. What I have, are the billowing, snow-filled winds, the flaring of sunlight through the chalky sky and the friendship of a large dog. A new year will soon be here. There is no need to wrap or unwrap a present. The gift should be in the heart. It should always be in the heart. This is a thing to know, all the year round. Cassidy turns to me. He is ready to go back in the house and to the warmth of the woodstove. The four-pawed 'ghosts' of his ancient mountain-dog lineage never had it so good. We return to the house. Cassidy barks.
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