On cold works days we had to bundle up to walk a mile to the Silver Spring Metro stop, where most days we had to wait on the elevated platform while the wind whipped around us. Once we were on a train, it would inevitably be blasting the heat, and as more people got on at each subsequent stop the train would get very warm. The fact that more people took public transportation on colder days—especially if it was snowy or icy—meant that in addition to being hot, one would have a great deal of difficulty removing layers for the 30-45 minute ride due to the extra bodies, all of whom were wearing extra layers themselves.

Once we arrived at our respective stops, we had to walk various distances to our offices, again bundling up against the cold and or wind. Once at our offices, we would strip our layers to work. I can’t speak for Sarah’s office, but mine was frequently warmer than I would have liked. (My office mate next door to me, however, was always cold and blasted the heat in her office.) If we didn’t bring lunch, we had to also bundle up to go out for food as well. At the end of the day, we’d turn around and do it all again in reverse.

I mention all of this because I find it rather ironic considering our current situation. We spend more time going inside and out now than we did for our commutes. The reason? The dogs, of course. Where before we were bundling ourselves up against the cold, now we are also making sure our companions are warm and dry as well.

At least three times a day we must get them both into their harnesses, collars, boots, and coats. Naturally they hate this routine. They hang their heads, drag their rumps, and look at us as if we have condemned them to the gallows.

Thankfully, once we get them outside they are fine, and seem to enjoy their walks despite the awkward footwear. Mick trudges along like a big dinosaur, and Haley will chase after the bits of snow that her own steps kick up as she walks.

The boots do a great job of keeping their feet warm and dry, and they are especially good at protecting them from the salt and chemicals that we encounter on some of the sidewalks around town. We get stopped constantly by people who either think the boots are the cutest thing they have ever seen (“ooo, look at their cute little booties!”), or other dog owners who want to know where we got them. The other night, a Montpelier policeman stopped to say how cool the reflectors looked to him as he approached us in his patrol car.

All things being equal, I still prefer the current routine to the old one.

Here’s yet another music video by our toxic-arsed dog masquerading as content. (Note: Quicktime video with sound. 8MB)

Despite the fact that so many people seem determined to claim otherwise, Haley is not a Training Baby^TM. We didn’t get her to find out if we are somehow meant to be parents or to prepare us for parenthood. Still it is a bit disconcerning when I find myself muttering under my breath to the dog at 6 AM, saying things like “Go potty, Haley. Good puppy, go potty outside. Goooooood puppy, go potty outside!” or “Where’s your ball? Where’s you little ball, Haley? Where’d it go?!”

Why do I speak this way? The dog doesn’t speak English; and it certainly isn’t going to pick up—or repeat—any “bad” language we may utter. So why am I not saying things like “Take a shit, dog. Good dog. Take a shit, girl.” Why don’t I tell her to “Cut that shit out, Haley!” or to “stop eating those f#@ing worms!”

I mean, the dog does not speak English, after all.

After spending the first eight months settling into our new home, we’re ready to add another member to our “pack,” specifically a Boston Terrier: smallish, athletic, friendly, and easy to groom. And after carefully researching local breeders, we think we’ve found a woman we like. (We can’t quite decide if it’s an added bonus, or just a random twist of fate, but she has puppies that were born on my birthday!)

Over the next few weeks, we’ll be studying our Boston books and training guides, and stocking up on supplies. In about six weeks, we’ll have an in-person visit with the breeder, and if all goes well, we’ll be able to pick up a pup in two months. Then, let the training begin! Whether we successfully train our puppy, or whether it has us wrapped around it’s paw, well…we’ll see who ends up as Top Dog.