Terry's cold feet

It was cold early this morning. About 16°. Not exactly the kind of weather Terry enjoys, but duty called and out she went.

Now, greyhounds have paper thin skin and fat is virtually non-existent on their frames. They feel the cold acutely. When Terry goes outside to play, she wears her coat. When it’s a quick and dirty dash out to the backyard to go, we don’t bother with the coat. It seems to encourage her to hurry.

This morning, being no different, she dashed out the door and I expected she’d be back up on the deck within a couple of minutes. By the time the coffee had brewed, I realized she wasn’t leaping around at the back door yet.

I went to call her and saw her standing in the middle of the back yard with the most tragic expression on her face. She stood there shivering, picking one foot up, then another, then another, as if she was marching in place. She was cold. Her feet were colder.

“Come on, Terry,” I called. She resolutely stood her ground, picking one foot up, then another, then another…

“Terry! Pick those feet up and move ‘em. Come on!”

And then. And then! She started bawling—like a calf. The most ungodly noise that, at 6:00 in the morning, was sure to launch the neighbors right out of bed. It sounded as if she was being murdered in the back yard.

I grabbed my clogs and bolted out the door.

“Come on, Terry,” I coaxed. With my hand under her collar, I gave a gentle tug. Her bawling rose by several decibels.

Nothing else to do but pick her up and carry her into the house. Leaving her out there shrieking her head off wasn’t an option.

As we reached the back door, I made a motion to put her down so I could open the door. Immediately she burst into ear splitting shrieks. No way those precious feet were going to touch snow again.

So with Terry in my arms, I felt around for the door handle and finally we tumbled into the house.

Terry is now outfitted with brand new boots and, having tested them, she likes them. In fact, she loves them. They give her extra traction. They don’t slip on the ice. They keep the pads on her feet from freezing. A happy ending for all (neighbors included).

It seems to be a lot like having a toddler to bundle up before going outside, struggling to get the boots on and legs into the snow suit. For the really bitter days, she has a scarf to wrap around her head to protect her ears. It ties under her chin. Way stylish.

What a dog.