The Art and Science of Paw wiping

We've got a light dusting of wet, sloppy snow this morning, barely concealing the mud soup below.

I've noticed something about Ivy in this messy, wet, squishy weather.  She stands very dutifully and quiet to get her paws washed.  She lifts her paws in the same sequence.  Right rear, left rear, front left--and that's when the trouble begins.  She resists having that last paw wiped.  The tail tucks under, the head goes down dejectedly, the ears droop, and all of a sudden I feel like Ernie Burt the Cop trying to handcuff George Bailey Clarence the Angel in It's a Wonderful Life. (Tom is more awake than me this morning--Ernie is the cab driver, Burt is the cop)  Anyway, if you've seen the movie, you know the scene.

I think she has a three paw tolerance for paw wiping. 

It's 32 degrees and cloudy.  Promises to be a gray, wet day in Chicagoland. 

It's Friday!  Don't forget to send your weather reports to Rebecca!