We have lots of snow in the backyard here this winter in Alberta. More than we have had in a long time. It is pretty to look at and it is quite deep, deeper than the length of our dog Tipper’s legs.

That presents a bit of a problem for her, or more to the point, for us, her dog parents, as she “does her business.” In the summer time that means sniffing the grass until she finds just the just right spot, much like Goldilocks with the same blonde or wheat coloured hair.

What differences does it make, I sometimes want to ask her. Clearly, she is guided by some internal, highly personal process that I will not ever fully grasp.

It is a reality of having a dog and the point where wanting to have both a pet and a nice yard collide. “Your grass or your trees,” our friend and breeder told us bluntly when we have tried to decide upon a female or male puppy. We chose our grass to be damaged. All of our dogs have been females.

“Doing her business” is such an interesting metaphor. It is, of course, a very acceptable way to avoid using the perfectly appropriate biological terms for the healthy functions of voiding. There is just something far too proper about using those words to make them acceptable in common use.

And something a little too “common” or crude about freely using of their shadow slang expressions. So what is left is referencing the word of “business” so as to not offend as being crude or pedantic.

So how does Tipper deal with the problem of deep snow? Simple. She does her business where I have shoveled. Where we walk. Usually right out the back door on the deck. That seems like just the right spot. After all, why go any further, particularly when it is really cold and the deck is the shortest distance back into a warm house?

Her breed does not make the high intelligence short list, but she knows how to take the easiest course of action, something that other much smarter and superior living beings do not always grasp quickly.

I am challenged to talk politely about “doing her business” when confronted with very close encounters with reality, particularly when I am looking where I am going and not where I am stepping. It is the juncture where what I call my dog and what she has done become one and the same.

The shadow slang terms seem just right in those circumstances. I wonder what Goldilocks really said when she found the porridge too cold? I imagine that anyone who would break into a house, particularly a bear house, is probably a little rough or crude around the edges.

“This porridge is too cold,” she said politely, or so we are led to believe.

Right. I can just imagine.

Anyway, where my mind goes is to reinterpret the word “business” as a metaphor for what my dog does when I hear it used in its more general and literal sense in the world at large. I particularly amuse myself by doing so when attending my service club meetings. The membership is skewed to business people and the conversations are usually of little interest to me.

So I nod my head and smirk a bit when I hear such comments as “business is picking up,” or especially “I have been picking up lots of business,” and I can say knowingly, “Yah, me too, and how has that been for you?”