I mentioned last week that Silas was really cold on our trip. We even had to break out his adorable little jacket a few times. Now the cold has caught up with us at home.
Now, what Silas says is “cold” is what most of us consider “pretty pleasant.” Those of you who live north of Kentucky or so probably consider it borderline warm. Silas, usually an independent little guy, is glued to my leg, covered up in a fleece blanket.
All this because it is 67 degrees in the house. It’s 55 outside right now, and Silas looked deeply betrayed when he went out.
Yesterday at the park Silas was twice as anxious as usual. The heavy underbrush is dying back, so the park is louder, more open. The wind was blowing. The water in his beloved turtle pond, where he does the Silas version of playing in the water (that is, delicately putting his feet in, then getting back out) was so cold he had to run around like a crazy to warm back up.
Poor summer dog. I guess I need to buy him some clothes. I’m too cheap to run the thermostat much warmer than this, even once I do crack and turn the furnace on.