I could write about my dad having a stroke last week. I could publish the essay I wrote earlier this month on flossing, motivated by a New York Times article claiming it reduces your risk of stroke by twenty percent. I could, but I don’t really have it in me.
Instead, I want to write about walking my dog in the cold.
No matter the weather, our dog gets at least a one-mile walk a day. This week has been nothing short of miserable outside. Slippery, wet, below freezing—extreme for even a Michigan winter. This means boots are involved. My boots, my husband’s boots, and four small boots for our large mutt.
Walk time is Goose’s favorite time of the day. Finally, he gets to go outside, stretch his legs, sniff approximately 150 dribbles of dog pee—what more could a dog want? And yet, despite his excitement for the walk, he runs away as soon as we take his boots out.
He enjoys his walks more with his boots on. Without them, his paws get too cold, occasionally hobbling on three legs to give his coldest paw a break. Good dog parents wouldn’t let that happen, so we wrestle the boots on. With them, he can walk longer and delve deeper in the sky-high piles of snow. Yet he still runs.
This little activity really isn’t fun for anyone involved. There’s the chasing, crouching on the floor, tightening the boots just enough so they don’t fly off mid-walk. The bulky harness. The jacket, necessary because of his short fur. And that’s just him. Then there’s our own routine of hats, scarves, jackets, and mittens, before managing to funnel the three of us through our tight entryway without losing balance or patience.
None of it feels worth the effort until we’re outside. Until Goose is bounding through the snow, pulling us past our house when we try to turn back, insisting we go a little farther. The boots don’t make winter pleasant. They don’t make it easy. They just make it possible to walk in the snow.
Lately, the boots feel like the difference between doing something and doing nothing. Between hoping it’s not super cold out and preparing just in case it is. The boots don’t really fix anything. They don’t stop the cold or bring summer sooner. They just protect what we can, even though Goose will never fully understand.
But they let him keep going. They let him enjoy his walks. Right now, that feels like everything.
Julia is a 2018 graduate and studied English literature and business marketing during her time at Calvin. A Chicagoland native, she now resides in Grand Rapids, MI and works as a brand and marketing officer. She spends her free time reading fantasy novels, sweating in her gym’s sauna, renovating her almost 100-year-old house, and crafting according to her current creative fixation.
