Winter Routine
Winter Routine
It’s Saturday morning chaos here. From years of routine, the dogs know that as soon as Dane and I step into the mudroom to get our coats, they will be going for a W-A-L-K.
Téte, the best worst dog I’ve ever loved, is barking nonstop. (I’m not exaggerating—ask her babysitter.) She barks for us to get out of bed, to feed her, to roll down her car window, and even to tell us when to go to bed. It’s exasperating. A doggy psychologist might help, along with doggy Prozac, if we were that kind of doggy parents.
The other day, as my head felt about to explode with her barking, I calmly explained to her that we were taking her to the pound—we’d had enough. Dane laughed, I smiled, and Téte kept barking.
Now we usher Téte out the door to muffle the barking while I maneuver Finny out of his sweater and into his red parka, which he wears on colder days or when a snowfall is expected to reach his belly. Today is a parka day.
I love how Finn, after 12 years of practice, lifts one tiny leg, balances while I slip his foot into the sleeve, then lifts the other leg so I can get it into his jacket before I zip it up.
Ruben, the youngest, jumps up onto the trunk in the mudroom and begins to wiggle like jello. His winter jacket is intentionally designed to be easier to put on. Only once did I try to pick his front legs up and place them in sweater sleeves. He nearly bit my head off—and Dane says Ruben loves me the best. Ask his sitter, and she’ll tell you: don’t mess with Ruben unnecessarily.
Finally, they’re in the back seat of the car, safely behind a guard rail, but before we can even start inching up the road, Téte lets out a deep, demanding bark. Dane quickly rolls down her window, and as she sticks her head out, the barking stops—temporarily.
Once we’ve crept up the snow-covered road to Highway SS, we brace ourselves to pass the first farm, which has sheep and two giant guard dogs. The white dog’s name is Yogurt, but we haven’t met the new brown-and-white dog yet. We guess its name is Granola.
Yogurt and Granola chase alongside the car from behind their fence while Ruben and Finn join Téte in an all-out bark-fest. Dane and I sigh with relief when that farm is in the rearview mirror.
This is how it goes every single time we take the dogs for their walk. We love our weekend hiking adventures with the pups, but you’d never guess it from all the noise.
But today, we choose the trails behind the Viroqua VFW post. It’s a smart decision, as we’re the first to break trail, and it’s stunning. The path is quiet and enchanting, covered with new, powdery snow, and—where’s Finn? We left him off-leash as the snow was over his parka’s back. Thinking he could hardly keep up with the big dogs and us, we cut him too much slack. He’s gone, and we know he’s after a rabbit.
“Finn,” I yell. “Finny! Doogie,” his nickname, I cry. Having spent the first 15 minutes of our walk yakking about the tranquility of the woods, now I’m panicking.
Dane starts calling, “Finnegan, Finnegan,” as we stop to listen for him. But the snow-covered woods aren’t giving us any sounds today.
Téte is thrilled to be in the snow, her favorite medium. Ruben is on high alert as he also spies a rabbit. Finn is somewhere, having the time of his life. I’m envisioning a coyote grabbing Finn or a tree snagging his parka and holding him captive. Dane is simply mad.
Fast-forward to where we’re all in the car again, the three dogs tuckered out in the back seat. Dane pulls up to the Daily Brew drive-thru window. As he places our coffee drink order, the dogs are suddenly up again, a storybook picture of sweetness and all things good because they hear the words bone and pup cup.
Back at home, as I’m typing at my computer, Téte is on her couch with all four legs up in the air, Finn is back in his sweater, curled up like a fox on his chair, and Ruben is upstairs, probably lying on my side of the bed.
Dane, meanwhile, has gone to his house to try to capture some sane alone time before coming back for our Saturday evening routine: two out of three games of Rummikub. Téte is watching for him so she can resume barking and tell me Papa is here!
