The cape was adorable; brown plaid with buttoned tabs and a Velcro-fitted waistband. Perfect for fall and winter weather.
Before grabbing it from the store rack, I made sure the size was right, then brought it to the checkout counter where the salesperson remarked on its cuteness.
“Perfect for my pug,” I told her.
And it was. Mr. Magoo, who has always resisted dog clothing, cooperated wholeheartedly while I fastened the cape around his neck and underbelly. He actually looked proud of himself.
My motive for buying the cape was not based on the latest doggie fashion trends. My motive was totally selfish. I was getting very tired of dealing with the “pug coldweather syndrome.”
More than anything, pugs love their creature comforts. More than anything, they hate cold weather and the happiest, most cooperative pug will turn belligerent at the mere thought of going outside in a sharp October breeze.
When Jack Frost nips at our noses, pugs do not like doing their daily doggie “duties.” Somewhere in their pug brains, they decide to hold everything and wait for spring to do their “business” again.
Humans know this is impossible, but pugs are optimist little creatures. The result is a colossal man-beast struggle.
As pug owners try to get their beloved pets to perform their duties in the face of minus 30F temperatures, these dogs “freeze,” standing motionless like bison in Great Plains blizzards.
I can’t recall the number of hours Magoo and I have done battle as I tried to get him to do his business.
So I was thrilled when Magoo adapted to his new cape. It changed his whole attitude. He cut down his normal slow search time for the perfect twig or branch. He began plunging into snowdrifts just for fun. He did his business quickly and efficiently.
As the winter deepened into January’s frigid temps, he was more cooperative than he’d ever been. (Except for the -40 wind chill days when I was forced to pick him up and set him down outside.)
I credited the cape with this positive attitude change. But one day, everything fell apart—or seemed to. As he bounded though the snow in great leaps, the Velcro tab around his neck flung open, leaving the cape hanging from his hindquarters.
I caught him and refastened the tab, but again, like the Incredible Hulk going through metamorphous, Magoo burst out of his cape. He ran back and forth through deep snow and ice to retrieve snowballs, oblivious to the fact his cape was no longer keeping him warm.
Mr. Magoo had gone “native.” For the rest of the winter and up until now, he has loved playing in the snow. All his romping about rendered the cape useless. He has been having so much fun in the white stuff; he doesn’t care about the cold. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s truly a pug.
Even though the cape now seems useless, I’m storing it until next winter—just in case he forgets that he learned to love snow.
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