I take our Lhasa Apso out around 6:30 a.m. for his morning business meeting. I say “around” because I’m not a morning person and hate the sound of the alarm, thus my timing is inaccurate. But Chewy (yes, Chewbacca, for you Star Wars fans!) has impeccable timing most mornings and knows exactly what time he’s scheduled to roll.
Before the Fall time change when it was still dark outside, I decided my attire didn’t matter. The few other dog walkers I encounter and those bleary-eyed neighbors leaving for work could not decipher that I’m wearing ratty shorts and the t-shirt I slept in. Now that it is daylight when we go out, time for a fashion overhaul? Nope…I have no shame! The temps have dipped a bit, so I’m out there in my blue plaid flannel pants and the t-shirt I slept in. Chewy has never uttered a complaint.
Chewy has been in our family since 2000. When our boys were young, they would play rough with him and he loved it. Being a small fluffy dog, he was great for spinning on the tile kitchen floor. He hates getting a bath, will bark and run crazy circles around the house trying to shake the water off himself. I always say he’s the only baby I have left, since our boys are in their 20’s. So yeah, I’ve spoiled him.
Maybe like me, you have wondered what a dog’s thought process involves. Chewy will trot happily along, then stop suddenly to sniff absolutely nothing for five minutes. I’ve seen him deathly afraid of dried leaves blowing across the street near him. Strangely, he doesn’t give a second’s notice to another dog barking at him, even if said dog is bigger. The rear-end sniffing ritual seems to be a contest to Chewy, as he will attempt to stealthily sniff the other dog when it isn’t looking. Once that dog wants to sniff him, he gets snarly and walks away. Doesn’t seem fair, but what do I know?
Chewy may be eternally grateful his humans now live in Florida. In Ohio when it got cold, we put a sweater on him to go outside. Some dogs seem to love clothes. Chewy is not one of them. The second he spots the red and white striped contraption, life visibly drains from his furry little face. He hangs his head and will not make eye contact. When we slide it over his head, he shakes violently as if he can shred the monster that has enveloped him. It’s hilarious to watch.
Maybe now I’ll shop for a Hawaiian shirt. Do they sell flip flops for dogs? Never mind, Chewy would eat them anyway.