At one time, not all that long ago, they had two little dogs.  They are now reduced to one.  The little female dog was well advanced in years, closing in on 20 when she passed from this mortal coil.  The little male is a young 12 years of age, but stolid in temperament, unlike the liveliness of his companion.

They themselves are not young, having experienced three-quarters-of-a-century of life.  And they like to keep busy; life and doing things energizes them.  On cold winter days they dress their remaining little dog in protective gear.  He is very small and delicate to a degree, so when the snow is deeper than he is high, and the wind bellows icily and it is very cold, he wears a coat to insulate his little body against the cold.  If it is very, very cold, he also wears boots, which he would prefer not to.

On one such very cold day when the wind was blasting about new-falling snow in a forested ravine they gain easily from their home, it was felt necessary to gear him up against the very inclement weather, rather than remain home, without a daily recreational walk.  Even in the house in the winter he wears a light little jacket for he is sensitive to the cold.

On this occasion, over his little interior jacket went a down-filled zippered vest, and over that a sheepskin-type coat with a roll-up collar.  And on came the boots.  The boots work well when they work with the environment, not against it.  They become a problem, with their little leather pads sewn onto thick fleecy fabric, when there is ice underfoot, or dry snow, since they tend to slip and this tends to cause a problem in locomotion.

Perhaps the ghost of the other little dog, the one that outlived her lifespan, spurred him on.  Despite the difficulties the little tyke encountered, stuffed like a helpless sausage into a three-fold casing, and boots that allowed him no traction, he managed nonetheless to complete his daily perambulation in the woods close to the home where he lives.