Our granddog wears a hoodie. I can’t believe I just wrote that. The part about having a granddog. And the part about a hoodie.
Our daughter and family treat their new dog like family, which every family in the history of time has done and is also why the dog got a new hoodie for winter.
The hoodie is of pale pink sweatshirt material and even has a pocket on top. Probably for the dog’s gloves, lip gloss and cell phone.
The hoodie has sleeves. There’s something about a dog wearing sleeves that come halfway down the legs that make you wonder if the dog might be able to hold a fork and spoon.
It also makes you want to hand the dog a pen and say, “Here, write your name.”
For some reason, it all looks entirely doable.
Dog clothes are not foreign to me. I sewed a lot of my own clothes in high school and often made my dog a matching wardrobe piece, which was a basic rectangle that tied underneath.
He always wormed out of my creations. Apparently, the dog had something against navy blue windowpane plaid. Big patterns were hip back then. He didn’t like the red and green plaid I made for him either.
My brother and sister-in-law would never try to dress their dog. It is a huge German Shepherd that weighs 85 pounds. When the dog is in your face and smiles big, your first thought is always from Little Red Riding Hood, “Oh Grandma, what big teeth you have!” The dog is not amenable to cute, cuddly clothes. However, the XL dog will try to sit on my brother’s lap, but there is no chair big enough.
Different dogs, different choices.
Dogs that do accessorize often appear personable, the sort of dog you would enjoy chatting with in a slow-moving checkout line.
Still, I casually inquired as to why a dog would wear a sweatshirt inside the house. “I don’t wear a jacket inside,” I said.
Five people turned and yelled, “That’s because you’re cold-blooded!”
I might be.
I casually mention that the dog has a thick coat of fur and at one time dogs lived outside. I also mention seeing a picture of wolves in Yellowstone National Park that were burrowed into the snow and catching a few zzzz’s in the sun.
Later that day our daughter called and said, “Guess where the dog is?”
“In the kitchen making dinner?”
“No, she’s outside. Guess what she’s doing?”
“Going to Starbucks for a coffee?”
“No. She’s burrowed in the snow and is quite content. Just like the wolves.”
“You know what this means, right?” I ask.
“That our dog enjoys being outside,” she says.
“No. It means you’ll have to put the pink hoodie in the dryer when she comes inside.”