A Dog at 6 degrees
The dog is not enamored of the weather, which will go down to six degrees tonight. That’s Fahrenheit, for those of you from civilized nations who aren’t still measuring your distances using a measure derived from the length of your average barleycorn in 1024. It comes to about -15 degrees centigrade, if that’s the metric that lives in your head.
This dog, Bisquick, has come up in my writing before. The thing you need to know about her is that she does not like to poop at home.
Our LAST dog, four years gone now and of course absolutely perfect in every way now that she’s left us, ONLY liked to poop at home. We haven’t got much of a yard, but there’s a run on the side of our house, and she would go out every morning and make use of it. We would pick it up and go on with our day.
THIS dog, this yellow she-bitch, will do this only with the greatest need and under severe provocation. Her preferred spot is six blocks away, on North street, with anything at least three blocks out an acceptable substitute.
And it’s six degrees tonight.
She had a short walk earlier in the day, but after staying up late this weekend (because New Year’s) and playing a really unreasonable number of hours of video games (I got Spiritfarer for Christmas and it has a really fun co-op mode where my wife gets to play as a cat), I am not very interested in taking her around again tonight.
The ice rain we had this weekend, imperfectly cleared from several but not all of our neighborhood sidewalks, is an added barrier as well.
So I guess she’ll have to wait, or to make the sacrifice and do her business in the side run.
To see what she thinks about that, I refer you to the picture above.
