By now, because of all of our walks with Miss Piggy, we have met most of the neighborhood dogs. Some are dainty doglets with bows on their ears and cute little raincoats covering their coiffed curls, while others are just good ol’ dawgs that wouldn’t be caught dead in a dog sweater.
The late Howard Lee had a wardrobe which consisted of XL and XXL men’s t-shirts which still had to be cut in the neck to accommodate his XXXL large head. He wore them, quite contentedly, to protect his stitches following his operations, after expressing his opinions about cone collars to his veterinary surgeons. He also had several pairs of boots, to protect his paws from the Minnesota slush and salt.
Miss P’s doggy wardrobe is sparse: one striped t-shirt which matches the grandsons’ pajamas of several Christmases ago. (I have yarn to knit her a sweater, but it’s way down in my stash.) It could never compete with the wardrobe of the ever-fashionable Stella, the granddog whose closet is probably larger than mine.
And then there is our other granddog, Ivy, who has moved well beyond her initial Little Match Girl portrayal to a wardrobe fit for a Calendar Dog. Check it out–it’s feminine, but quite tasteful.
Our neighbors wonder if they should assemble a wardrobe for their dog, a large, lazy Lab who spends much of her time on the window seat in their large bay window. Look at the photograph which Dearly Beloved took yesterday. Even with the glare and reflection in the picture, I think you can make out the unfortunate scene unfolding there.
They’re uncertain as to exactly what article of clothing might address their situation before they receive an admonition letter from the Homeowners Association.