Boogie’s daughter, Kim, texted me this photo she found among her mother’s things. I’m thinking this is early ‘90s, after we moved to Albuquerque. That’s a Labatt’s in my grimy paw and some sort of Grateful Dead homage.
Last winter, Ozzy became anxious about walking on ice and snow. I think the real issue was the salt. So Lara did what any irrational pet owner would do. She went out and bought him boots, which I faithfully (and patiently) put on him for winter walks.
Yesterday, we were walking up 14th Street and came upon a group of young women who clearly had been taking full advantage of the spontaneous boozy brunch deals that erupted across the District in honor of the snow day. As soon as they spotted Ozzy, one of them said, “It looks like he’s wearing condoms on his feet.”
Amid the laughter from everyone except poor, chagrined Ozzy, she asked if it was tough to put the boots on.
“Yup,” I deadpanned. “Just as hard as putting on condoms.”