We wake up to about an inch (at most) of snow. Not having been paying attention to the forecasts, this is a pleasant surprise, and I race up and down the garden as soon as Dad's alarm gets him up to let me out. Megan and Haggis stay put on the bed.
As is normal for Kent, most of it has gone by evening, so there are no photo-opportunities, and the Rec has just enough for a dog to roll on her back and play snow-angels. Were you worried that in our new short clipped fur, this snow and cold would be unwelcome? Fear not. We are a ruffty tuffty Scottish breed. Och Aye!
The Rec was full of like-minded strollers, enjoying the snow, such as it was - old faithful, rather portly Jack Russell "Patch" was there (whose Mum I always remember as being a source of dog-sweeties from those cavernous pockets), and Spinone "Tosca", beagle Molly and a small black terrier (Scottie? - we're not sure, some sort of cross, we think).
Meg, though, seems to be suffering a bit from lameness in the front left. She's OK on dry tarmac, but does not like the frosty earth and grass, or icy patches on the paths. We are taking it gently and we'll keep an eye on her. Poor aul' love.