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There Is No Way I’m Pooping In This Weather (Guest Column By Your Dog)

This is a joke, right? I’m not going out there! The air is literally attacking the ground right now, and you expect me to do the most vulnerable thing a dog can do? You can’t even watch my back when the grass is a mere whisper. How deeply must my squatting gaze pierce your soul to earn some protection? No matter what I do, your eyes are glued to that goddamn glow box. We’d be toast if a beast were lurking in the shadows. Or worse, a human doing something loud.

You’re still getting the drag-you straps, aren’t you? Let me be crystal clear: I am NOT doing my business while the heavens and earth are at war. If you dare tug me into this unfathomable turmoil, I will snap into my abused dog act faster than you can scream ‘humane society.’ By the way, nice paw protectors you’ve got. I noticed I’m not afforded quite the same accommodation despite the fact I’m literally five seconds away from frostbite.

And while we’re at it, not all of us have the luxury of swapping our coat for a dry one as soon as we step inside. The rest of us get the ‘dog towel,’ a.k.a. the basement’s finest dirt rag. How thoughtful. God forbid the little head fur you have gets wet. I’m exiled outside the splash room, watching you battle with the scream blower. Remember the time you aimed that thing at me? I still have nightmares. Try it again, and I’ll bite that hot wind to death.

Here’s the thing I don’t think you seem to understand: it’s cozy in here, and it’s cold out there. You realize this, correct? Oh, I see, you think I can’t hold it? Weird how suddenly you’re so concerned about this. Where was this concern last Saturday when you were dead to the world until noon? Did your evening of screaming obscenities at the larger downstairs glow box tucker you out? My gentle pawing at your face meant nothing then, it seems.

So no, I am not pooping in this weather. You can call me when the outside won’t make me smell like a damp basement for a week. But until then, I’d appreciate it if you could set up the pillows the way I like, with the fuzzy blanket on top. And scratch my belly, just… like… that. Yep, that’s it.