I’ve a minor collection of what most Americans call a bathrobes. I think it’s a bit more phone to call them a housecoat.
It’s an old term from England and I rather like what they call some things. There’s the trolly, which is a shopping cart or buggy (depending on where you live), and then there’s rubbish for garbage or trash. They also say things like dust bin and add letters to words. But housecoat seems good for this position post.
The night air is brisk and patience is needed while I wait for my ill dog to potty. I have a hooded housecoat that zips up. The wind still cuts through it, but the hood is a nice touch while I wait in the garden (British for backyard) for the pup to potty.
His recent diagnosis of heart failure had brought in the need for multiple medications and one is lasix. So, he has to do some weeing at night and the housecoat has proven reliable.
It is now getting late and I do believe my little wildling is ready to retire.
I’ve been watching him smell the air. He seems to enjoy how the cold air feels and smells.
Simple pleasures can bring us such joys. Dogs can teach us a lot.
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