It’s frightfully cold. The dog doesn’t like snow, he doesn’t like rain either. In fact, he’s not a “garden dog” in any way.
Since we got him in October last, he has shown no interest in the garden. Our garden is just the place to do his business.
The now-dead-Bobby-dog, used to meditate outside, explore the fences, smell the flowers/grasses/plants. He liked the garden. In the summer he used to lie in the sun, snooze and enjoy being outside. Nothing happened there that he hadn’t checked out, or know about.
The new dog is a house dog. A lap dog. He sometimes only gets up at ten or eleven o’clock in the morning. That suits me, because I do too.
This morning he had to go out to do his morning ablutions in the freezing cold – minus 6 deg over snow. He was not pleased. Finally he did a racing poo that happened to land standing straight up in a cone shape. We watched from the kitchen window and laughed as it froze. And as it did, it sent off small clouds of steam like a tiny volcano!