I Came to Pet-Sit Two Dogs. I Accidentally Moved Into a Snow Globe.
I arrived in Milverton for a nice, quiet week of pet-sitting. Two dogs. Fresh country air. Maybe a peaceful walk or two. A little light snow would be cozy, I thought.
That was Thursday.
Today is also Thursday.
Because the snow has not stopped since.
At some point, time ceased to exist. Days became irrelevant. All I know is that it has been snowing continuously, aggressively, and with personal vendetta energy. This isn’t snowfall—this is snow committing. Like it signed a lease.
Every time I look out the window, it’s the same scene: white flakes gently falling like it’s the opening credits of a Hallmark movie… except I’m the side character who hasn’t seen pavement since last week and is emotionally attached to a shovel.
The dogs? Thrilled.
Absolutely living their best lives.
They bounce outside like woodland creatures summoned by winter magic, while I trudge behind them wearing every piece of clothing I own, questioning my life choices. One of them stares into the swirling snow like, Yes. This is where I was meant to be. The other tries to eat it.
Walks have become expeditions. I don’t walk the dogs anymore—I lead an Arctic research team. We head out, disappear into the white abyss, and return 10 minutes later looking like we lost a bet.
Inside the house, it’s cozy in that I may never leave again kind of way. I’ve accepted that this is my home now. I live here. The snow lives here. The dogs are my roommates. Society is a distant memory.
I keep thinking, Surely today is the day it stops.
Narrator voice: It was not.
If you shook this house right now, glitter would fall out. I am one tiny figurine away from being permanently sealed in glass with a label that reads:
“Canadian Winter: Observe, But Do Not Attempt.”
Anyway, if anyone needs me, I’ll be here—watching the snow fall, again, on Thursday… which has apparently decided to last a full week. ❄️😐
