Barnaby the beagle wasn’t a fan of freezing weather. The world outside the kitchen window had traded its cheerful autumn colors for white and grey. He was a hound of the field, chasing scents across sunny meadows, not shivering his paws off in the icy air.

This morning, the frosty glass looked cold. Barnaby sighed, a huff that ruffled the fleece throw he was lying on. Barnaby needed to go outside and was gently but firmly guided into his little blue coat with a hood he hated. His human pulled on his leash for him to come along. This morning, the frosty glass looked cold.

Outside, the snow was deeper than his legs were long. He plunged his nose into it, expecting the familiar scent of rabbits. It smelled only of clean, sharp ice.

Then, an unfamiliar scent drifted on the wind. Faint but distinct. It cut through the cold with a warm, sugary hint of something delicious. Barnaby’s ears perked up with the usual droop replaced with focused attention. He followed the trail, his little legs working hard, nose to the ground.

He led his human on a winding path to the edge of the local park, right up to a snow-covered picnic table. There, half-buried in the snow, was a bright red mitten. Tucked inside the mitten was a small, foil-wrapped chocolate bar, likely forgotten by a visitor.

Barnaby nudged the find with his nose, let out a satisfied “A-roo,” then looked up at his human with shining eyes. Freezing weather, he decided, might have its charms after all. Especially if it involved hidden treasure.