Haiku, snow, and words

I have an internet friend who I admire greatly for many things, among them the fact that she writes beautiful haiku, seemingly with ease. Today was a day meant for haiku, but I don't have the words for that lovely brevity. Last night, when I looked out the back at the deck, in the light I could see big snowflakes drifting gracefully down. If I looked out the front to the distance, an empty street stretched before me and the air was almost fog-like it was so thick with snow. It apparently kept on until about three in the morning--I wouldn't know. But this morning everything was covered with rounded mounds of snow--no tracks, no footprints, no tire marks. The world was white and still and wonderful. Then about noon, the dripping began. Tonight the streets and sidewalks are clear, the driveway almost so. More functional but not nearly as pretty. Tomorrow it will all go away.
It was another day home alone--Jacob's dad took him sledding and kept him all day. Tonight they've gone to the airport to get Jordan, just back from a five-day work trip (so she says) in sunny southern Mexico. Sophie has been good company. I managed to spend way too much time on Facebook but I also wrote my thousand words (okay, honesty, I still have 300 to go) and read some on the book I'm  to review. Evening is my productive time, and I'm getting ready to get back to work.
On Facebook today, Republican lawmakers have been busy. Ted Cruz hasn't given up his dream of denying health care to the poor--is that some kind of Darwinian survival of the fittest test? A lawmaker in Arkansas (I think) gave his two adopted children away--to a man who had raped one of them. That makes the adoptive mom in me scream in pain for those very young girls. Another Midwestern lawmaker says President Obama is about to make it illegal to prosecute African Americans for any crime, and then there's always the NRA which claims that banning ammunition for AR-15s (I may have the caliber wrong) is the first insidious step toward total gun control. If those are the president's goals, he better hurry along--he only has less than two  years. Paranoia continues to astound me.
And then there's the Facebook offer: I could have a set of Golden Girls prayer candles of my very own--be still my heart. I can hear Betty White's laughter all the way to Texas.
Back to the world tomorrow--I hope.

A snarl and a snap

My sweet, loveable Sophie, who everyone adores, snarled and snapped at me tonight. It's the second time in recent weeks she's done that, but I dismissed the first time because I think I woke her out of a sound sleep by reaching for her collar. And the incident passed quickly--she seemed unaware and came for her nightly tummy rubs. Tonight it was willful disobedience.
Friend Phil was trying out the new sectional in the sunroom, sitting quietly petting his seeing-eye dog. Sophie adores the dog, Santiago, but she also thinks she should be first in line for any affection in this house. She hopped up on the sofa. I'm trying to teach her that the new sofa is off limits. When I catch her on the sofa in the living room and say, "Sophie, get down," she looks guilty and hops off. Didn't work tonight.
Jacob got her off once, but she hopped back up. He reached for her collar again, and she snarled badly enough to scare him away. So I marched over and reached for her collar--only to be greeted with a snarl and a snap. I did rap her smartly on her nose and say, "No!"--which earned me stinging knuckles because they came in contact with her bared teeth.
Christian said, "If she were my dog, I'd punish her," and I agreed but I didn't know how to punish her. I sure wasn't going to reach for her again. We all decided to go into the living room and ignore her.
Obviously, she knew she'd done wrong. She followed me everywhere I went all evening--if I was having wine in the living room, she was at my feet, staring at me with soulful eyes. If I was in the kitchen, so was she--watching me nervously. When we had dinner, she sat right by my chair. Eventually we made friends, but I don't know if the lesson will stick with her. It will stick with me--I've learned not to reach for her collar and to always make sure she knows it's me and is awake.
But I need some way to deal with this if it happens again.
Jacob helpfully said, "Lock her in her crate for the rest of the party." (A quick dinner for four is a party to him.) I explained she wouldn't connect the two. She's very subject to bribery, but there ought to be a better way to make her understand that is unacceptable behavior. I'll appreciate any advice from dog-training friends. I don't exactly want to risk my fingers again.
Sophie will be four in May, and I certainly hope this isn't a sign she's going to be a crotchety old lady.
The good news is that the world is thawing--not going to be in the twenties again for three nights, but then watch out. Rain and freezing temperatures. I'm going out tomorrow if I do no more than drive around the block. And if we can tolerate this stuff one more week, we should be headed into the sixties. Come, spring....