Sweltering. That’s the word I’ve been looking for this week to describe the Texas weather. Sweltering. When you’re sitting at home, watching your windows sweat on the outside, you know something is terribly wrong. Or when you open the door and can see the humidity just hanging in the air.
Nothing new, of course. However, after our brief jaunt to San Francisco two weeks ago, where the highs were in the mid-60s, coming home was almost brutal. When you go from having to buy a couple of light jackets to fend off the chill to wanting to take every piece of clothing off after being outside for ten minutes, that’s just mean.
Again, hot weather in June isn’t a shock. We’ve lived here long enough to just expect temps over 100 for a couple of months. Possibly getting an alert from the power grid operators to conserve power. Except this year, we’ve run into one issue that’s a first.
Snickers wants to go for a walk.
When we adopted him last July, walks were verboten. He was in the midst of heartworm treatment. Activity was kept to a minimum until he could get the all-clear from his doctor. Which was fine for us. Walking in 100+ heat, even late at night, was not something we wanted to do. Sitting in the air conditioning suited the three of us just fine.
Unfortunately, by the time Snickers was allowed to start taking strolls, the weather had cooled significantly. And every afternoon around 1:30, he would start pestering James to throw on his harness and leash and head out the door. (Just to be clear, the harness and leash were going on Snickers.) Even at times when it was lightly raining, he was happy to take a quick stroll around the block. Ever try holding a leash and an umbrella while picking up dog poo? That’s a real Olympic event.
The bigger challenge, however, has been to get him to understand that it’s just too damned hot to be walking at 1:30 in the afternoon. Or at 5. Or 8. Having sat out last summer, he has nothing to reference. Not that he probably would put that together given that he hasn’t figured out yet that the ottoman isn’t attached to the couch. All he knows is that it’s time to go, and you need to stop what you’re doing and get to it.
But being the resourceful gays we are, we think we’ve worked out a solution. That means the alarm is going off at 5 every morning, instead of only some mornings, and kicking off the day with a walk for Snickers.
Lucky for me, James has been taking him. But like all good things, that will come to an end the first day he has a six-a.m. phone call.
And Snickers won’t be the only one panting when we get home.
