This dog does not like the cold. When we let her out in the morning, or in a snowstorm, she races out to the yard, piddles and poops, then races back to the door and if it doesn't open immediately, she paws at it like a guy with an axe is coming up the stairs behind her.
Yet say, "Let's go for a walk," and she's out the door like a shot, tearing across the yard through the snow like she's a Husky on a long-distance pull.
For a dog whose thin layer of fur and bare belly is totally unsuited for deep snow and deep cold, she doesn't seem to notice when she's racing through the tree plantation or around the field. To be honest, I don't know if the Chilly Dog coat makes a difference to her or not. It makes me feel better, though; it doesn't seem right to send a naked dog out into the snow and wind.
It's a good thing she demands these adventures. With three jobs on the go right now -- book manuscript (two weeks till due!), weekly church services, and a mid-March deadline for a Master degree application (now that's bad timing!) -- I'm doing far too much sitting these cold, winter days. It's an easy habit to get into, when relaxing becomes lying on the bed reading a book and taking a brain break means watching television instead of heading outside for a walk. A habit that's bad for the back and neck, and bad for the butt. So having a dog that doesn't mind the snow and cold means I don't get to mind it either.
And every time we return from a snowshoe around the property, even if it's just 20 minutes, I feel 100 percent better. Like I knew I would.
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