Her name is Blondie. She’s a Yellow Labrador-Pit Bull mix as far as I can tell.
We live in Nebraska. It is 2nd January 2013 here in the Central Plateau and at this hour, about 1930 and dark out, the temperature is around 28 degrees Fahrenheit. What strikes me as butt freezing weather. Not a good night for the likes of me to be out and about not protected by an automobile or other enclosed and heated device.
Blondie wanted a treat. (She probably wants another now, but she’s nearly as fat as I, so she isn’t getting one.) So I gave her a treat and then she wanted out. Into the 28 degree dark she goes. Why?
She stays outside for a bit. She eats her treat and wanders around in the back yard – full of cold and dark. She’s quiet, but quite ready to bark at anything she deems to be intruding on her territory. Then she casts her mind back to long ago and why she likes being outside in dark and cold…
She remembers when her kind were wolves. Not just wolves, but dire wolves. She remembers back to dark and cold times when her kind hunted and foraged for survival. She is cunning and determined and resourceful. She sniffs the night air and can smell other things in the dark. Other wolves – at least neighborhood dogs – and prey; some of the rabbits that live in the neighborhood. Possible enemies encroaching on her hunting territory – various cats out looking about and squirrels. Except the squirrels are diurnal and have the sense to be home in their nests by now.
She is no longer Blondie, but Bonecrusher a scout for the pack, and the best scout in all of dire wolfdom. She is fearless and unbeatable.
Then her feet get cold and it’s time to go back inside.