Dog Days of Summer

It’s not even officially summer yet but it is hot out. Every summer I decide I hate the heat more than the cold and every winter I decide I hate the cold more than the heat. I can’t make up my mind but the heat certainly does make cranky. And I sound like I’m 80 years old.

Anyway, having had two squishy faced dogs for the parts of the last three summers, we’re obviously well versed in dealing with the heat which is particularly dangerous for said flat nosed dogs.

I broke rule number one today when we took Isaac for his now weekly Saturday morning group dog walk: avoid taking your dog for walks in the height of the heat. Oops.

"Thanks for trying to kill me, mom."

“Thanks for trying to kill me, mom.”

Now we know to carry water with us rather than just having a water bowl ready for him back at the car.

Two summers ago or so I also got Lucy a Kool Kollar. I’m looking into getting one for Isaac, too, since I know he’ll still insist on being walked for the rest of the summer.

Fortunately, both dogs also have zero issues drinking straight from a water bottle which makes it easy to have water available at any time. A bonus? An empty water bottle turns into a toy for Lucy.

"I love water bottles!"

“I love water bottles!”

Ice cubes are also a great way to quickly cool down a dog. Lucy loves them in any weather; Isaac is still undecided. So far it appears he enjoys chomping it once and then spitting tiny ice cube pieces on the floor for me to step in.

Also, when in doubt, plop your (rather large) butt directly in front of a fan, blocking everyone else from the breeze.
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Finally, bite the bullet and turn the AC on. I know, I know – it’s expensive. But you can’t take any chances with short nosed dogs. I’m as cheap as they come and even I don’t hesitate to turn the AC on for the dogs.

***
On a completely separate note, today I was taking Isaac for his post-dinner walk (not that he had much energy left after this morning’s death march <– I’m joking). Two boys maybe around 12-13 years old saw us walking and stopped at the corner. One boy asked if he could pet Isaac; he’d spotted him from down the block and had waited for us. I was a bit hesitant since Isaac is iffy around people (and I was extra hesitant because the other boy was carrying what I really hope was some sort of toy rifle. It is Central PA so you never know…) but Isaac did great. The boy (the one without the rifle) asked the usual questions – what kind of dog is he? What happened to his skin? How old is he? When I said he was almost nine he goes, “maybe he’s just balding because he’s getting old!” which made me laugh.

It then came up that Isaac was a foster dog to which the boy responded, “we have something in common then, Isaac. I’m a foster, too.” If that doesn’t tug on your heart strings then nothing will.

The most handsome foster there is.

The most handsome foster there is.

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