"You want skates?"  I repeated Dog's request back to him, not sure I had heard him right.  I would have cleaned out my ears for effect, but I had gloves on.
Dog, his dark brown miniature Dachshund frame shivering a bit in the cold, blew out cigar smoke as cool as a, well, cat, as we balanced ourselves on the deck.  It was covered in a sheet of ice due to last night's rain which froze as everyone slept.  "Sure do.  I want a pair of skates.  You can see why after finally coming out here and seeing what I have to put up with to just go to the bathroom.  See?  This deck is like a skating rink.  I need skates to traverse from the house to the ramp and stairs."
Shaking my head, "But how would you actually get down the ramp to the yard, then?"
Dog smiled, his teeth reflecting a garish orange glow from the ember at the end of his cigar.  "That would be the fun part.  With skates, I'd just slide down that ramp, land in the snow at the bottom.  You could take videos and post them on the internet."
I laughed. 
"What's so funny?"  Dog seemed a bit put off by my laughter.
"Sorry, I'm not mocking you, but the sight of you sliding down a ramp, cigar clenched in your teeth, on ice skates, with your long ears flying behind you...well, that WOULD be quite the sight! Even better if we found some goggles for you to wear."
Dog blew more cigar smoke out. "So you agree?  You'll get skates for me?"
Placing my cigar in my mouth, I put my hand out.  Dog grinned, the winter light sparkling in his dark eyes, and he spat in hisshook my hand.  "Remember, I need four skates."  We had a deal.

Read more adventures of Dog, the philosopher of life and daring swashbuckler, in Cigars with Dog - Conversations and Tall Tails.

    "Whoa. Whoa.  WHOA!"  Dog was in a bit of panic, walking in a circle and threatening to wear out the carpet.  He looked up at me at the completion of each circle.
    "What's the matter, Dog?"  I paused in my task of moving the side table next to the couch.
    "Well, all these changes.  You sure we have to go through with this?"
    "Dog, it's Christmas!  We do this every year.  We have to move stuff around in order to make room for the tree and other decorations."  I shook my head.  Every year it was the same with him, concern that we moved furniture, that we changed his routine.
    Dog shook his head, as well.  "But you don't understand.  I have a well-planned route I patrol to check this house out.  I can do it with my eyes closed, because the furniture is where it always is, where it is supposed to be.  Except now.  And to compound the issue, all these decorations have new scents.  I can't tell when I should be alerted to an issue with the house or not."
    "You'll get used to it.  It's only for a couple of weeks."
    "Yeah, but you don't have to settle down the other dogs each day."  Dog looked at me, rolling his eyes.  "Every morning, they wake up, and get excited 'Hey hey hey!  There's a new smell in that room!  Let's go explore!'  Only, of course, we can't explore, because you lock us up like criminals in the kitchen behind that gate."
    "You've all survived in the past.  I'm sure you will in the future.  Now, if you let me finish, we can get to cigars on the deck sooner than later."  With that, he sat on his back haunches, concerned but quiet.