We got our first snow of the season today. A decent amount, too. I wondered how Duncan would react. At about eight years old, Duncan had certainly experienced winter and snow before. Heck, he was found wandering a frozen field in January. But this is first winter with me and I wasn't sure what to expect.
I took him outside. There was a respectable few inches of snow on the ground. Flakes were still coming down steadily. Duncan stood on the porch for a moment and sniffed the air. He sniffed some of the snow on the porch. Then he ate it. He ate the snow. I'm not sure what that means, but I think it's safe to say he's not afraid of it.
Here and above: Duncan supervising the snowplows.
After that, it was "Let's walk fast, Mom. It's cold out here." He trotted through the snow, down the driveway, across the street, to one of his preferred areas of grass. He took care of business and started trotting for home.
Back inside, Duncan jumped up on his throne--formerly my chair--and assumed his traffic-cop duties, watching the snowplows do their thing.
All in all, I'd say we had great success.