Yesterday’s trial run with Frida’s Ruff Wear boots started out great. She motored like an old pro. Only difference was her progress was intermittent. She’d trot twenty paces, stop, and then look at me to discern from my face what crime she’d committed that warranted punishment via boots.
When we got the park, things went downhill fast. I’ll blame it on the ice storm which deposited half an inch of ice on top of a foot of powdery snow. Frida seemed to be enjoying running in the boots and sprinted ahead time and time again. Must have had some confidence in the boots. I fear her confidence was shattered when she broke through the ice and fell on her face. So sad. How do you tell a dog the boot didn’t break the ice?
I tried to get her to walk slowly by me, but she wanted to run. Each sprint ended with one step harder than the others, a leg post-holing through the ice, and a hard fall on her cute furry face. Finally, she just laid down. Wouldn’t budge. Which isn’t like her. She isn’t a protester. No moving her this time, though. Here she is just as her willingness to continue had evaporated. Generally hard to get posed pictures of her outside, as she is always on the move. Not now. I guessed she’d enough of the boots.
I was right. The boots came off and she started up just fine. I put them back on as we were leaving the park as we’d be crossing many streets covered with salty slush. She must have thought me a pretty slow learner. She could no longer walk in the boots. Tripped every ten steps. Protest? Tired? Who knows. Off came the boots, salt paw be damned. She made it home just fine.
I gave her a break from the boots today, but I’ll try them again when conditions dictate. It’s funny. She has done much better in the past with her old boots. They were just cordura socks, more like moccasins really, so she could still feel the ground. Maybe these stout soled boots just take away too much road feel. She might need more time to acclimate to these boots. That said, if she protests this strongly again, I’ll give up before I ruin her favorite activity in the world. Walking and sniffing are everything to her.
In other news, the house smells amazing right now. I put together an Indian pumpkin dish (kaddu ki sabzi in Hindi with kaddu meaning pumpkin and sabzi meaning vegetables, especially cooked). I used one of the pumpkins from our garden. An aside. Not sure why this excites me so, but see the red lid? The co-op was selling bags of six lids which fit on Luminarc tumblers transforming the glasses into storage containers. The lids fit both half liter and liter glasses. Fewer reused Chinese take out containers in our fridge these days. Nifty, huh? Little pleasures.
I’ll take from the freezer some mulligatawny soup, turnip tops and samosas I’ve made and froze a month or so ago, and cook rice and grill up some flat breads to round things out. It is Lacey’s late night at work so I will have plenty of time to put it all together.
While I wait and type and cook, these fiery hot roasted pumkin seeds will make their way from the bowl to my mouth. That treat is lost if you simply open a can of cooked pumpkin. I hope I can save some for Lacey, but the outlook is dim. I’m not eating them as fast as I ate the kettle corn I made from a recipe spotted by Lagusta (I was a robot programmed to do nothing but make kettle corn disappear and I was good at my job), but they are going away. My mouth is afire.