How much do I love my dog park?
How much do I hate cold and winter?
When I left for school Monday morning, I hugged Our Best Friend and said, “We’re going to the park Wednesday. Promise.” In fact, I kept thinking about it the whole time I was away, the anticipation of spending time with Our Best Friend chillin’ at our favourite hangout my motivational reward for adjusting to a new school routine.
I got home and “chillin'” was a little too literal. Today was -13° C (8.6° F), and colder with the wind. And there was wind, peeling the skin from your face. I spent most of the day running around, returning home around 3:45 to a dog almost berserk from loneliness after being by himself for most of three solid days.
Did I mention it was -13°? I had no compunction about breaking a promise I made to both of us, and planned a lovely excursion to the back yard hill.
Normally, Our Best Friend takes his cue from me. If I go stand at the back door, he comes to the back door. If he sees me pick up poop bags, he knows that means a walk or the park, and he goes mad barking with joy. Today, I headed to the back door, he walked to the front door, and sat down.
“OBF,” I called. “Come. We’re going out back.”
He sat a the front door, waiting, looking expectant, yet not barking.
I looked at him. It was 3:58. I had to pick up The Youngest at 4:30 from school, which is a 90 second drive from the dog park. Never, in almost three years, had Our Best Friend said, “No back yard. Not good enough. We’re going to the park.”
I took him to the park.
He got 20 whole minutes. I thought I would freeze to death, parka, mittens, long underwear, sweater, and all. There were three people and five dogs. An 18-month-old Shepherd tried to get cute with Our Best Friend, and OBF scared him to death with his vicious bark. (Nope, didn’t even come close to biting him… but King didn’t try anything funny again. In fact, when OBF tried to encourage play, King backed off.) One man walked past to the gate, pooch in arms, saying to us, “You’re braver than we are– too cold for me!” I said, “Nope, he has five more minutes, then we’re DONE.”
OBF made the most of his time. He zoomed around like a crazy pup. He barked. He checked out the other two dogs wrestling on the far side. He gave King’s owner a little love. And by the time we left, I was an icicle.
I always say my next dog will be small, non-shedding, and female. My next home will be warm, sunny, and non-humid. Maybe a back yard pool instead of a sledding hill. A mango tree and warm tropical nights. Sure. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for Our Best Friend’s bedtime bathroom break on the sledding hill.
This post is part of the Saturday Pet Blogger Hop. Hop on!