Having a small dog in a cold climate is a challenge. Having a small dog who hates everything to do with winter in a cold climate is a battle of wills – which I always end up losing.
Oscar is unabashedly and unrepentantly, an unCanadian dog. He despises hockey (the Maple Leafs suck!), turns up his nose at being polite, and I’m pretty sure he’s prejudiced against moose, beavers and Canadian Geese. (NOTE: I get the dislike of our national bird – those buggers leave their cylindrical droppings everywhere. Seriously… EVERYWHERE!) But what makes him the least Canadian dog I know is his unbridled distaste of snow.
In recent days, we’ve been blessed with a heavy blanket of snow. And every time it snows, Oscar is somehow stunned. Even after living his whole life in Canada, he is shocked and amazed at its appearance on our Canadian urban tundra. After the first snow fall, I open the door, and he turns to me in amazement as if to say: “Hooman, the white, fluffy substance that makes my paws cold… what it is? Surely, you do not mean me to go out in these deplorable conditions? No… I will not tread out of doors today. I will withhold my doggy goods, which you treasure amongst all things, until the spring. Good day to you.”
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Without fail, I can expect the following winter rituals to befall our household:
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After a few tries, he’ll either pee on the snow tire tracks or lift his leg on the snow bank. With poop, it’s a bit more complicated. Even if I clear a pretty big chunk of territory and set him down, he’ll refuse to let go. But he’s found a solution – albeit an awkward one if anyone sees us. Because our little front stoops (which consist of a concrete landing and a stair) are always shoveled, he’s taken to leaving a present on my neighbors welcome mat. Yes, I know it’s not a “You’re welcome to poop here” mat, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And I am desperate. Before you blast me with nasty comments, please note that I always clean it up and make sure there’s no residual left behind. Thank goodness that 1. It’s a business, so they’re only there between 9 to 5, Monday to Friday; and 2. They always use the back entrance.
Even though it seems like our northern winters last half the year, I hope, in vain, that one day Oscar will shake off his distaste and jump with abandon through the snow. But until that day comes, I guess that Oscar and I will be hibernating until the spring.
