Today I walked in the snow and cold with the dog. At first she found it interesting and strange and could barely concentrate on why we were walking around the yard; though we do it every day, the strangeness of the cold white stuff distracted her from taking care of the business at hand. And when I took her back out in the snow this evening, again to do business, her paws got so cold she began limping and practically lay down in the snow so that I had to pick her up and carry her into the house. Tomorrow I will have to go and buy her some boots and maybe one of those little jackets, though I used to say that no dog of mine was gonna run around in sweaters and such. Today as I lifted my little friend to relieve her from walking in the freezing cold snow, I realized that I need to protect my little California pooch from this unholy weather.
In all the years I had a canine companion I hadn’t bought clothing for them until one really cold winter in Michigan when I bought my big mutt Shiloh some boots that he hated and walked out of after he’d only gone a few steps. I tried them on Honor this evening (yes, I still have them), but her feet are so much smaller than his were and so she walked out of them even more easily than he had. So tomorrow I’ll head off to the pet store and see what I can procure for my pup. I myself haven’t had new boots or shoes in a number of years now, but she shall have her first very own pair of winter boots and perhaps a jacket or covering of sorts. We don’t spend tons of time outside, but I want to be sure she’s equipped for it.
What does this have to do with gratitude? For one thing I am grateful for the lives of my four-legged companions–first Shiloh and now Honor–who have been part of my life for a total of nearly 17 years (Shiloh for 11 and Honor for 6). At various times in that period, each of them has felt like a burden–another mouth to feed, another being whose life I was responsible for. But at other times they have been my lone companions–Shiloh often helping to ease my loneliness when my kids were off visiting their father after we’d divorced. He had the most uncanny way of knowing when I was sad and could sense me crying in a completely different part of the house, coming to find me and resting his big head on my lap as I wept.
These days, when I am at home, Honor is my roommate, my sole companion. I still order my day around her: I take her out to do her business, throw the ball with her for a few minutes, feed her when we get back inside, and then say goodbye to her as I head out the door for work. It always makes me a little sad to be leaving her. She spends between 10 and 12 hours a day by herself. People have pointed out to me that dogs mostly sleep all day anyway; and it’s true that even when I am home she mostly sleeps. But when I am home she sleeps in whatever room I am in, often following me from one room to the next settling herself to rest even if I am only there for a few minutes. And often, she will come and simply sit by me–her on the floor and me on the sofa–seemingly content simply to be there.
I find myself looking forward to spring, though it is just now early winter, so we can explore more of the area and enjoy some fine weather together as we did so often during our walks in Chavez Park near the San Francisco Bay. I don’t know if she misses the water; I know I sure do. In the meantime, I’d better be thinking about equipping her for winter lest I end up carrying her on our walks. My hope is that she will eventually come to enjoy the snow; my old pup Shiloh was delighted at the return of winter snows each year. Hopefully as Honor becomes acclimated to it, she’ll do the same.
Honor's First Snow, December 2012
