Waiting Isn’t In Their DNA

It’s early morning and 31 degrees outside, with frost on the grass.

I opened the door to let the dogs out and Katja stuck her long snout into the frigid air and immediately ran back into the bedroom and burrowed under the covers. Murray, who’d rather not do his business in his own yard unless presented no other option (he takes the “Don’t poop where you sleep” philosophy to an extreme) remained in the kitchen, hunched over the heating vent like a buzzard waiting for prey.

Sanders, who at 12 is the oldest and wisest of the bunch — and I include myself here — ran outside for a quick piddle and shot back inside like he’d been launched out of a tiny catapult.

So you would think, what with the consensus that it is TOO COLD TO BE OUTSIDE, that we’d be off the hook for an early morning walk. After all, it seems reasonable to wait until the sun warms things up a bit and we can all enjoy our outing without our teeth chattering.

But NO! The demands have begun.

Katja has emerged from her cave to bite at my socks as I walk down the hallway. Sock-biting is her way of letting me know she is bored and it is my job to fix that by providing adventure of some kind. After 4,317 tosses of his ball, Murray has decided to bark at me, despite our strict “No barking at mom just because you want something and she’s got other plans” rule. And Sanders is whining and scratching at the door. I know I could distract him with cookies, but he’s on a strict 17 cookies/no more diet.

So we’re going to bundle up in sweaters and coats and head out because waiting is not in my dogs’ DNA. And resistance to canine demands is not in mine. I can feel my teeth chatter already.