Growing up in Toronto, I had a golden retriever named Norton, who was the sweetest, most darling dog in the universe. I can’t imagine owning any other breed.


Every single winter when it snowed for the first time, he would absolutely lose his shit: because he had the memory of a dog, he reacted to every single first snowfall as though he’d never seen snow in his entire life. Even when he was 14 years old, he still went absolutely apeshit at the sight of snow, responding with a mixture of excitement, terror, confusion, joy, and befuddlement. He’d trot around the garden staring in awe at the white ground, not knowing what the fuck to do with himself. It was an annual ritual and it made me laugh my ass off every year.
Dear British people: thank you for reminding me of my lovely dog. Your annual response to an inch of snow is pretty much the same – especially the crippling confusion and inability to know how to react to the mysterious, otherworldly white stuff. (Tip: create an urban infrastructure that doesn’t grind to a halt when it’s 2C and the snow instantly turns to slush anyways.) It’s annoying the way you whine and crumble – but gosh darn it, it’s pretty cute.
Bless you.

PS This is what a real “snow day” looks like. It snowed five feet and people who didn’t have porches like ours couldn’t even open their front doors for a couple of days.