Friday, February 20, 2015

My dog is taking over the world one human at a time!

It's that time of year when people start breaking New Year's resolutions, an honorable tradition, one I look forward to annually. I set my resolutions early: lose weight, walk the dog more, win a million dollars in the lottery. far, none of these goals have been met yet.

But every Thursday, around 2:00, I've been walking the dog. Since January, at least. One small step toward one of my goals.

And then there was yesterday...

"Mesmero, the Wonder Dog"

Here, in the midwest, winter's really just starting. And I shouldn't complain, not after what Boston and New York have been through. But the snow's finally begun here, hasn't stopped.

At 2:00 yesterday, I closed the computer, ready to do some food prep and house cleaning. The dog flips out. He gallops through the house, leaping like a kangaroo. He stops in the foyer, looks at his hanging leash, back to me, back and forth several times. I get it already.

So, I say, "Zak, you don't really want to go out there, do you? I mean, look outside! It's snowing, it's ten degrees, it sucks!" Clearly my words fell on deaf ears (my dog has very selective hearing).

He runs upstairs, stops at the head of the steps, gives a bark. Manipulating me. He knows full well that's part of the ritual, my going up there to switch into tennis shoes. He's staring down at me, big dopey expectant eyes, tail wagging and knocking things over.

Who am I to deprive him of the highlight of his week? Even though I dreaded it worse than a trip to the dentist.

Now here's something you need to know about Zak...he's a highly artificially climate-controlled dog. He despises any type of moisture or cold. Literally, I have to shove him outside to go to the bathroom if it's even sprinkling or dropping snow flurries. When I do successfully get him outside, he doesn't leave the deck, gives it a few seconds to fool us, and then barks to be let back in. 

NOW he wants to go for a walk in our Winter Trauma-land? Further proof of his manipulation. we go, Zak excitedly dragging me to the park through a blizzard. Unaffected. Happy.

Thirty minutes later, my eyes are watering from the wind, my faces is red as a fire hydrant, I can't feel my feet, my nose is running with skin flaking off like potato chips.

Yet, I fell for it. 

It's gonna' be Planet of the Dogs, folks. My dog's the Caesar, leading the troops through psychic manipulation. You've been warned.


  1. Winter Trauma-land! Haha! I guess you have to buy bigger boots. ;)

    1. Lexa, I consider the Midwest "Trauma-land" no matter the season.