This morning I walked the dog and I kept thinking, “I need to pull my phone out and see how cold this is so that I can make a vow to never walk when it’s this cold again. This is officially too cold to walk the dog.” But it was too cold to pull my hands out and mess with my phone. By the time I got back to the house, it was 25 degrees. So, at the least, I guess I can say that too cold is below that somewhere, not very far.
Of course, the problem is this: if you decide that’s too cold, instead of the dog deciding, will the dog poop on the floor in retribution?
And he was running around like it was the best morning ever. I think we even played a game, which, if you’ve been reading a while, you know is almost as remarkable as the day he learned to run. But I do think we were playing a game. He ran way off ahead of me in a big arc and then stopped in front of me, but a way off. Then he kind of got down in a play pose and waited. When I got near to him, he took off in a big arc again. This was, apparently, the best game ever.
And the moon was so big and low that I mistook it for a streetlight.
It’s too cold, but who wants to miss out on stuff like that?