Snow and Vice

There is a wonderland out there, encased in ice.  It seems that for awhile, everything stilled, waiting. We were a bit surprised, we in the South, with our girly man anti-winter equipment: a few snowplows, salt trucks, airplane de-icers, all purchased at Lowe's, on sale.   Atlanta skidded off the road.  There were numerous exclamatory reports of frozen this and closed that.  Concord, closer to Briarpatch, didn't move much either.  USAir, the airline that has logged most of our miles lately, did not fly from Charlotte.
Husband John, raised in snowbooties in the Western North Carolina mountains, simply put on jeans and got in the car.  Rumor has it he was one of the few people in the Southeastern U. S. at work Monday and Tuesday.  But he talks with people in warmer climes anyway:  Portugal, Mexico, South America.  And the ones in Russia and Canada are not very sympathetic. 
The dogs were a bit confused, but then, from our perspective, they remain that way.  Not sure it isn't the other way around and they are the ones who have it figured out.  No matter the weather, they sleep on the bed, get breakfast before dawn and dinner in the middle of the afternoon.  After John gets home, it is out for ball-playing then in to wait at the pantry door for Doggie Crack, a disgusting something rolled around ersatz liver.  Makes them deliriously happy.  All day long, there is the couch, (Huey has his own chair),  random barking just to stay in voice, coming up for ear rubbing, and periodically, out to make rounds.  Rounds for Huey The Younger (the one on the right) includes the neighbor's.  They have friends over once a week to play games and Huey is a regular.
You need to understand that Huey logged in just under "obese" at his last vet visit so since then we have had him on what is known in our house as Jenny Craig for Dogs.  This translates to special food which can cost more per pound than ours.

It took Huey one and a half of these new dinners to discover supplementation, the equivalent of stopping at Dunkin' Donuts on the way home from your Weight Watchers meeting:  the compost pile.  Then, lo and behold, if you go next door while this whole group of people is occupied playing games while they eat their sandwiches, and do your one trick (sitting) and give them the brown eye treatment, well, chances are they can't resist and will give you a bite here and there.  It didn't take long for that to escalate.  Well, it took his dragging home a whole roll of bologna and getting caught.  Then the authorities were notified.  Neighbor Jennifer now keeps an eye on the whole situation, and he's been (at least partially) cut off.  You can't blame them.  He gets more treats than he ought to at home too. 
I have been  under the impression that if my chocolate after dinner doesn't count, because it is after dinner, then maybe those biscuits he gets because we feel so sorry for him being on a diet shouldn't count either.
Well the math isn't working for either one of us. . .
Wait a minute, this started out being a story about ice and snow.  How did we get to poundage? Clearly I need more coffee. . .with cream. . .and chocolate protein drink. . .well, its cold!