They would have been a good idea in 7 degree weather with nine mph winds, after the dog slept in then “hounded” me to take her out.
I got everything in a hurry, electric jacket on and really on, lamb cossack hat, scarf, gloves and boots.
What did I forget? Pants. Yes I did go out in underwear. Long silk underwear that are part of my pajamas in winter. I wondered why my legs were cold.
In this cold weather I don’t trust dog Zoe’s routine of going out early, quickly and then eating her dinner and taking another two-hour nap. If I take this long to dress and she’s already wearing her own fur coat, I’ll take her out as long as she needs, early morning, to do everything. I can put her collar over her neck in a heartbeat and grab house keys, it takes me longer to get ready.
I didn’t grow up in a world of PolarTec, down or fur, just wool and hand-knitted balaclavas and mittens (thanks, Aunt L). Now my husband and I take every technological advantage against the cold that we can get. Even dog Zoe has a coat. It works every season, to keep rain off or keep her a bit warmer, especially in severe cold and wind. She will not wear booties to keep her from the salt that lines sidewalks and roads so our town never needs to plow snow. Instead she licks her paws, we pick her up and sometimes it’s enough that she has to vomit. There’s a reason ranchers limit the salt lick for cattle.
Remember the pants. We could have had a longer walk this morning, but once she finished her business, she just wanted to come home, eat and sleep. One has to love an old dog when all her mental functions are known by me, often in advance. My husband says “she just needs her toy.” No, dear. She needs a walk and I’m making us dinner, as she already ate. That’s the way it goes in love, marriage, cold and dogs. Cheers! Dee
I meant a real thanks to Aunt L. She kept me warm via her knitting. Now there are technological advances in materials, she is retired and not only does she volunteer making food for the local soup kitchen, she spends spends half the year knitting lap robes for the elderly at a local nursing home, and the other half making delicate booties and hats for preemies at the “big city” hospital where I was sent as an infant with a heart murmur and actual hole. Yes, the hole healed by age fifteen, I was just told not to sports. Did I tell you I lied to the vet the day after my Mickey was neutered? I’d dealt with a couple thousand cats from spay/neuter ferals and knew what they were capable of. He grew up with my dog for a year and taught himself to catch and retrieve my finished task-related crumpled sticky notes. He was sailing over the sofa right next to me to get another when the call came. All OK, is he resting comfortably, right next to me. You did what you had to do, Mick. I did sports. Dee