… Coat.
I’m not one of those people.
You know, the ones who paint their dog’s toenails or (shudder) dress their dogs up in costumes at Halloween.
I like dogs to be … well, dogs.
We do them no favors when we humanize them. In fact, it’s disrespectful. If you were owned by a dog, would you want him putting a rhinestone collar around your neck with a bejeweled leash attached to it?
My guess would be no.
But that’s not the point of this post.
The point is, I bought Maddie a coat after a lot of thinking and debating about what was in her best interest.
It gets cold where I live. Really cold. And when you take into account that Maddie and I are out the door long before sunrise most mornings … well, if you don’t normally do things like that, you have no clue how much of a difference a lack of sunshine makes.
Maddie also has hair, not fur. That’s one of the prize attributes of the labradoodle. Blind people with allergies, have no fear! The labradoodle is a fast learner and doesn’t shed. (Not that you’d want Maddie leading you across the street. She’d probably pull you right in front of an 18-wheeler for fun.)
Her hair is thin and her chest honestly looks like the chest of a chimp — relatively hairless.
So when you put all this together, I figured I’d have to become one of “those” people and buy my dog a coat.
In all seriousness, you have no idea how long it took me to find one that actually covers her chest. Most dog coat makers seem to think the most important thing is covering the dog’s back.
Maddie’s got some long hair on her back, so I’m not terribly worried about that. It’s her naked chest that concerns me.
I searched for a few weeks and then I found it.
If you’ve never checked out Doctors Foster and Smith, do it now. I have no clue whether or not they’re really doctors — I only know their catalog has just about everything.
Maddie’s is great: It protects her chest, has a collar that keeps her neck area dry and is waterproof to boot (I mean, c’mon. Is it any fun toweling off your dog every single time you go out in the snow or rain?)
My only question now is when she should wear it.
As a runner, I don’t jog when the wind chill is zero or below. From everything I’ve read, you’re not doing your body any favors — and in fact, you might be hurting yourself.
So when the local weatherman announced there was a wind chill of 3 degrees the other morning, I figured it was time to put Maddie in her coat.
She’s pretty good about it — better than I’d be under similar circumstances.
I put on my 5 layers of Under Armour, grabbed an old, dirty water bottle she hadn’t punctured yet, and off we went.
Maddie shook herself a few times as we started the walk, just as if I’d given her a bath. “It’s not coming off, baby,” I told her.
I am pretty sure she glared at me.
In the park, we were alone. It was dark, monstrously cold and apparently the rest of the world had the good sense to stay indoors.
Suddenly, Maddie turned her head to her left, toward the thicket of trees, and stared.
I have learned to trust my dog — she turns, I turn.
A huge deer with an amazing pair of antlers on his head was standing at the edge of the thicket. Maybe about 5 feet from us.
I don’t mess with bucks. I’ve had a couple move menacingly toward me in the National Park and I’ve learned my lesson. That whole thing about shy deer? Uh huh. They’re talking about females — not males.
I went into Cesar Millan mode and tried to make it clear to the buck that we had no intention of invading his personal space. I didn’t make eye contact with him, and I showed him my shoulder — not my chest. Short of the two of us lying on our backs in total submission, this is the most basic non-confrontational language in the animal world.
I made it very clear Maddie and I were walking away from him.
He didn’t come toward us and Maddie didn’t yank toward him. (She generally leaves deer alone because they are, as a rule, so non-confrontational.)
And then, I think we both heard it at the same time: He snickered.
“Was he laughing at us?” I asked Maddie when we were a safe distance away.
“Us?” she asked. “I’m the one with the coat!”
“It’s keeping you warm,” I protested. “And I’m wearing a coat, too.”
“Not the same thing,” she said, “as you well know.”
We walked in silence.
“Sorry,” I finally said.
“Yeah,” said Maddie. “Thanks.”
I’d better not tell her about the booties I’m considering buying her for when there’s snow on the ground.
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