Ollie In Winter.
Well, it’s about my dog, so not unusual that I woke up thinking about my much-loved companion today.
Ollie doesn’t know that it is winter. He doesn’t seem to feel the cold when we go out, and is still happy to plunge into the icy waters of the small river. Mud means nothing to him, except to give his paws something soft to walk on. He doesn’t seem to care that it gets dark earlier, or if he is occasionally soaked by freezing rain, or peppered with hailstones.
The piles of rotting leaves that carpet his walks are sources of more smells, and of no other interest to him besides that. The absence of those leaves on the trees makes it easier for him to spot the squirrels that scamper away as he approaches, and the fact that ‘fair-weather’ dog walkers appear less frequently means that he has to search harder to detect the signs of other dogs.
He is stocky and well-nourished, with a short-haired coat of fur that is nevertheless dense and protective. So he doesn’t shiver, and certainly has no need of one of the coats that adorn so many of the other dogs seen around. I suspect he wonders why they are sporting tartan woolens, or rain-resistant mackintoshes. They are dogs like him, after all. In the absence of human owners, there would be no ‘doggy coats’, and certainly no matching ‘doggy boots’.
The cold weather does seem to make him enjoy his food more, and to look for any extra treats that might be given. He sleeps better when it isn’t so hot, and drinks less too. In the evenings, he settles onto his rug in the living room, happy to not have to search out cool spots to lie on. He relaxes in the warmth of the house, perhaps knowing that the heat will eventually be switched off, and he will soon curl up on his comfy bed for the night.
I have no doubt that he prefers the cooler climes, after September has passed.
And I conclude that, unlike his owner, Ollie is a Winter Dog.