On a cold and frosty morning

in freshly fallen snow,

making footprints places

no one has been before.

Caesar likes his morning walks early. He habitually walks by her bed first and then rushes to my room. His morning enthusiasm is contagious. Despite my initial pillow-overhead reaction to panting, sniffing, and eventually bed-hopping, I cannot help but smile at his eagerness for the new day to start.

He is really not a typical English Collie dog. Caesar’s large, a bit overfed and uncoordinated body carries a majestic, long, fall leaf colored coat with a lion-like mane. His almost constant grin overshadows stubborn and terribly proud character. You would think that leashes help guide dogs places you want them to go. Not true for grandpa dogs like Caesar. His feet stand stiff like concrete when forced to walk in a non-appealing direction. Sometimes I wonder who the walk is really for. Forget the leash.

We take a path down the narrow street towards the Norwegian-looking houses. Surrounded by peaceful silence until another early riser takes it away, Caesar and I stroll through the snow. Moon lit landscape, blanketed in white, street lights showering the ground. The anticipation of a new day beginning, emotions come to surface. Staring at the ground and looking for signs of previous presence, we explore.

Caesar’s coat is covered with icing. His tale swooshes the snowflakes away as he sniffs around. He looks up at me now and licks the snow off his shiny black nose. Sometimes I wonder if he searches for her, hoping that she’s just around the corner. Maybe I do too. Yes, I miss her too Caesar.

It is time to walk back and see who else is up now. I know I have a cup of coffee waiting for me. Caesar speeds up. I take a deep breath and stamp my feet down the sidewalk. This is my home. The place I love and cherish for the memories, and for the feeling of contentment it awakes in me. Thank you, Caesar.