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are wet, they are happy. Our , , are wet, some are happy, some not. Our bedsheets will suffer from the canine vectored transfer of wetness. We're not happy about that, but generally we're happy.

Something delicious must have died here. Or became delicious some time after it died.

A Christmas walk with in , Poland. In Poland smiling is – officially – regarded as not natural. Now you understand why.

Bruno inspecting the . We have thaw and snow is slowly melting but at temperatures around 4°C it will take many days before it disappears.

When you don't have thick fur you need an ugly coat to keep you warm in freezing temperatures.

Bruno, the oldest of our pack of , can't decide whether to our house, or to go to our neighbour, where he practically lives now (that old wooden house in the background).

One of them loves snow. The other hates it. Both are happy there's no way I could drive them to the vet today (this is our only road to the outside world).

Masza asking us to hurry up and go on that walk before the sun goes down. It took a while to shovel that snow.

Definitely not driving anywhere today – this is our only road to the outside world. The , , don't seem to care. But they should be careful – the only way to get to the vet if something happened would be to airlift them.

If the weather predictions are correct, this is the only day with a bit of sunshine this week. Those little spots on the road are , our .

It's that time of the year when we realize that our black and white is not black and white.

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