There are very few ways that I enjoy being woken in the morning. So you can imagine how absolutely thrilled I was when, at six in the morning, my baby Kahlua (That would be her up in the header, about a year ago) ran into my room and proceeded to run around like someone was dangling a Dentabone in front of her. Over the course of her running, she somehow managed to strip the bottom most sheet off my bed. I got up to go put it back on, when wouldn't you know it, she tackles me directly in the face. As I said, there are very few ways that I enjoy being woken. Taking thirty-something pounds of puppy to the bridge of my nose isn't really one of them.
In order to keep myself from punting her like a furry, brown football, I took her outside to pee. This isn't as easy as it sounds, since the snow here is currently up to my belly button, so whenever Kahlua goes out into the front yard to do her thing, she sinks down until all you can see is a little brown patch moving in a sea of white snow. Yeah, so if you receive less than three feet of snow, or you live in a city where sky scrapers and constant traffic makes it impossible for snow to actually stick, allow me to inform you that the sympathy well is dry as bone.
Anyways, the moment I let her out, she proceeded to do a disturbingly elegant swan dive into the snow (considering that she's a dog, anyways). She made a beeline into the middle of a six-foot tall snow bank. Ten seconds and a foot of dug-up snow later, Kahlua came walking (kinda) back with something in her mouth and dropped it at my mouth. I looked down and realized that she had found Jon's wallet. Apparently, last week, Jon lost his wallet during a snow storm, and one of the city's snow plows must have blown it into out front yard. I'm seriously considering putting Kahlua into a class for those dogs that sniff out drugs at the airport.