The snow has stopped, and the icicles have stopped dripping.  The temperature is well below the freezing point.  Clyde is shoveling my drive. 

I intercepted him last time, using the words I knew would find perch.  "Just shovel the walk, and hand me the mail. "  I gave him $5.

He's back, shovelling around my car, clearing a path to the back door, a cigarette drooping from his mouth.  I cannot deter him and I don't want to.  He's sweet and alone and I have cash in my wallet.

I ask him about his doggie.  He tells me she had another seizure this morning and it costs him $35 each time he takes her to the vet.

I ask if it's time to put her down.  He says, "I lost my wife."

I thanked him for doing a good job, paid him a $10 and blew him a kiss.  He blew one back.