Hey, everyone! It’s me, your attention-loving, tail-wagging, field reporter JournoDog.
My curious nose has been extra sniffy lately because the hoomans have been talking about something called “The Olympics.”
This involves a lot of running and jumping. The goal is trying to win gold. I assume this is a type of very shiny, high-end treat.
Since my yard is full of deep Arctic white floof, I’ve decided to put on my press badge (collar) to cover these Bark-Lympics. Strap in, Interwebz frendz!
The Nordic Nose-Down Sniff
The first event was a tactical sniff-search.
The white cold floof has completely covered all my usual grassy “news sources,” creating a fresh, blank page for a JournoDog to investigate. And to mark with yellow artwork.
Every few step, I put my snout deep into the floof, as in full-muzzle submersion. No surprise, it was cold, wet, and made my whiskers look like I’d been eating powdered beignet donuts.
Like a good boi, I ID’d frozen squirrel tracks and a very suspicious scent that could be “Mystery Mailman Musk” or “Evil Smiley Box Deliverer.”
A shiny gold medal treat performance in sensory reporting, fur sures!
Freestyle Floof-Hops
Next up, it was time for zoomy hops in the deep floof.
This is where my doggo athleticism really shines. When the floof is deep, a JournoDog cannot simply walk. No, we must hippity-hop boing.
I executed a series of high-intensity “run-hops.” To the untrained hooman eye, it looks like a caffeinated rabbit.
To a professional journalist, it’s a strategic maneuver to mot sink into the snow-line.
I did experience a single security breach where I hopped into a drift that was deeper than my legs, and almost tumbled into the floofy abyss. Luckily, I used my tactical tail-wags to propel myself back to safety.
A silver success for that round.
Ice-Dancing Bootie-Walk
Walking in booties is like trying to do ballet while wearing 4 tupperware containers on your feet. There’s a lot of click-clacks and some very ungraceful leg lifting as I maneuver myself toward the outside door.
In a 10-moment stroll on icy terrain, my traction was 10/10. I sniffed the sniffs and claimed spots to create yellow floof masterpieces, while also managing to maintain my dignity (mostly) while navigating unshoveled heavy ice sectors of lazy or absentee neighbors.
No slips for me, just sniffs. I braved the Arctic with my embarrassing booties.
Advanced Dog-Dodging
Dad becomes the harbinger of danger in the final fur-raising event: The Floof Shovel Dodges.
He distracted me with snifffs and shivers in the driveway, then suddenly accosted me with the giant plastic scooper, throwing piles of floof into the air toward me! I knows, right?!?! Howls-riffic of him!
As a JournoDog, I had to stay on high alert. Every time Dad threw a scoop at me, I performed a Bark-and-Pivot. This one I learned from my frend and mentor next door, old boi Bo.
It was a high-stakes game of don’t get buried, and so that was the goal of this scary Bark-Lympics game. I successfully dodged 3 major floof-volleys, and got to bite one mid-air. It tasted like cold water and victory.
After the games
The Winter Bark-Lympics are exhausting, but someone has to get the scoop.
Now, I am retiring to the “Media Center” (the rug in front of the heater) for a much-needed nap and some “post-game snacks.”
After a GRRRRR at Dad, I’m retiring to try e media center indoors. This is where it’s warm and I could get the cold floof from my paws before finding warmth on comfy chair.
Not sure how many awards I got, but I’ll happily trade them in for warmth and good belly rubs indoors.
Support journalism. Trust talent and truth. Recognize wrongs, and always love your pets and people. Try to find a bit of happiness for your heart every day.
❤️ 🗞️ 🐕 🐾
P.S. Ma, btw: the investigative dog sports committee has determined that “extra treats” of cheese, Chmkn, and white air fluff are required for BarkLympic-level recovery. Please take note.
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JournoDog Chronicles 