So, I tripped over my dog today. You think your day started off rough?Try falling face-first over an uncaring basset hound, into the path of oncoming cars on a busy thoroughfare, then you come talk to me.

I don't blame my ill-mannered Boof, though. I blame these snow boots.

Not that I blame the snow boots, themselves. These puppies were made in America, and I'm a patriot. Rather, I blame the premise of wearing snow boots, which I've had to do for most of this past week, to get through all the snow and ice that was lying upon the ground after having fallen from the clouds last week in massive quantities.

I blame gravity a little, too, but since it's the only thing keeping me from flying off into space, this criticism is muted.

Walking Boof during these winter months lends me ample time to debate the many ways I hate gravity and love America. It also gives me a chance to ponder how much I love walking across Bismarck when it's in the state of a winter wonderland.

Boof is a scent hound, and, boy, does he smell. Every lamppost, every fire hydrant, ever school-crossing sign. A guy can only scream, "Boof! Boof! What else is there to smell on that fence, Boof?" so many times before the public thinks he's lost his mind.

The advantage to winter walking with Boof is that it's a lot easier to tell when he is actually inspecting a scent, and when he is just wasting my time. In the summertime, Boof will stop mid-gallop and shove his nose into some random patch of grass. Is there actually some scent there that he is investigating, or is this just some sick joke he thinks never gets old?

In winter, though, I can quite clearly tell when he's actually accomplishing something and when he's just messing with me (forgive the pun), since I can actually see the … uh … yellow markings of a dog that has been here before us. The rule is: colored snow, free to go; snow's still white, let's go, all right?

I don't know why it's all right for me when Boof's got his nose in some other animal's … err … waste material, but it's unacceptable when he's smelling the clean ground. It all comes down to productivity, I guess.

Also, thank goodness for snow drifts. All other times of the year, Boof is free to go after any curbside implement he wants. During the winter, giant snowdrifts stand between him and that eighteenth yield sign. So, he has a choice to make. Risk being lost forever in a drift, or just let that sign go un-peed upon.

Yes, winter is a wonderful time of year, where Boof and Ican get a lot of walking done without too many olfactory distractions. Sure, it's cold, but the scenery is beautiful and there's a peaceful, serene quality to our fair city when it's covered in white.

Alas, all our beautiful snow is currently melting away. So, on behalf of this exasperated dog walker, so tired of standing in one place while his dog discovers new smells, and on behalf of all the many poor posts and hydrants tired of being covered by my dog's … um … liquid signature, I ask the gods of gravity to hear my prayer:

So there's no place for my dog to go; let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

(Reach columnist Kelly Hagen at 250-8259 or kelly.hagen@bismarcktribune.com, or reach his dog Boof at johnwilkesboof@hotmail.com.)