We had a lovely day in Manhattan: sunny and in the mid-50s. For her morning walk (which came in the afternoon because I was too busy arguing with a certain client all morning), I decided to forego Goblin's coat so she could enjoy the balmy weather unfettered. As we waited to cross Central Park West, she shivered a bit in the bracing air (she is a short-haired dog, and we were in the shade), and a passing motorist was thoughtful enough to roll down his window and scream, "Put a coat on that dog! Can't you see she's freezing!?" His righteous indignation fluttered in the breeze as he sped off.

He was driving a Trans Am.

Now, for all I know, Goblin was merely trembling with excitement. After all, we were OUTSIDE! There were SQUIRRELS to terrorize and other DOGS to bark at! As we continued through the park, she ran and played and had a merry time, not seeming in the least physically uncomfortable or worried that the ASPCA would pop out from behind a bush and whisk her daddy away.

The first really chilly day this year—the first day Goblin wore her coat—was much colder than today. As we walked, a woman chastised me for having my dog wear a coat before the weather turned freezing. According to her fuzzy logic (if I was not too distracted by the fact that she let my dog lick her teeth to follow it correctly), nurturing her then would make her defenses fail later when she really needs them.

Stop the world, I want to get off.