Slipping and sliding into spring

Have you slipped in the mud a bit? It's spring and the season is muck.
When the children were small, I tried to keep them out of the puddles. Yet, invariably, a boy or two would come home with a boot full of water and a soggy tale to tell. Root Beer doesn't wear boots but her soggy tail sure tells a story every time she comes inside.
I try to keep her away from the water but it's everywhere. My front yard faces north and the snow melts slowly. It causes us a great deal of grief as we watch our neighbours start their lawnmowers as we continue to shovel.
Root Beer doesn't mind. She enjoys our half-melted landscape. She rolls, jumps and runs through the last echo of winter. She gets wet. She gets muddy, and her paws grow larger.
Her tender tootsies are now lovingly wiped 16 times a day. And still the dirt walks freely. Paw prints the size of a small mac truck dot the beige carpet and the ultra suede sofa cushions. Like a reluctant Sherlock Holmes, I can now track Root Beer's progress through the house just by following the puppy-paw trail.
I have scrubbed and vacummed and prayed for the warming rays of the sun to dry up my front yard, but to no avail.
The paw prints continue to roam.
I'm not fretting too hard, though. I know that one day, just like the days when my children played outside, I'll yearn to yell at the dog to stay out of the water, but I won't have to.
I know that someday when the seasons change, her sleek black coat will remain clean and her paws will remain spotless. She will be older and more mature - and I will miss when it was spring.