the dog thief.

so an interesting thing happened on my walk with the dog today. vivian, bless her little puppy heart, is immune to the cold. she's oblivious to below freezing temps, piles of snow, howling wind. the girl loves her outside time. not going on our morning walks because it's (gasp) cold out is not an option. so there we were this morning, vivian in all her black lab glory, her plaid collar in place, her leash snapped to it. lizzie the yellow lab, her pink collar and leash in place, too. and there was i, dressed oh so warmly in my smart cord skirt (newly purchased in spain, thank you very much), my woolen tights, my duck boots. and, yes, my ultra-warm winter coat (as opposed to the mid-warm winter coat or the fall jacket), my scarf, my stupid-silly-hat, my extra thick mittens. dude, seriously, you could see my eyes. that was it.

off we go. vivian and lizzie trot along happily, black and yellow dogs acting happily like dogs. i try hard not to breath in. we pass by grumpy students, a little old lady out sweeping her porch. seeing vivian trot along happily, they smile. i smile back. we greet each other with much more enthusiasm than the morning warrants. super cute dogs in the snow will do that to even the crankiest of us. we get to a corner and turn. i notice a mini van pull up to the stop sign. out of the corner of my eye i see the driver's window go down. the dogs and i take a few more steps. vivian stops to smell something. lizzie, not to be left out, stops to smell something, too. the mini van creeps toward us, so i turn toward it.

"do you need directions?" i call through my scarf.
"no," the woman says. "my husband it out looking for our dog because he got out. i thought i'd drive through the neighborhood."
"oh," i say.
"he's a black lab," she continues. "he looks just like him." she motions to vivian.
"oh," i say. there's an awkward pause. "well, she's my black lab."
"well, he looks just like ours."
"well, she's mine."
there's another pause.
i say, "uhm, i haven't seen any other black labs out this morning. if i do, where should i bring it?"
she squints. "over on __________. the corner by the __________."
"okay. will do." i start to walk, pulling vivian and lizzie closer to me. i glance back at the van. the woman is rolling up her window, but she doesn't look convinced.

so, friendly tip of the day? when going out dog-stealing, be sure to wear a cute skirt and tights. make sure to steal said dogs on the coldest morning of the year. make sure to wear a stupid-silly winter hat that's easily describable and identifiable. offer help to the dog owners when they come by. trust me, this set up? it fools the dog owners every single time.