Face the Fear

Fall is my heaven because its crisp- like the stirrings of life moving forward topped with cinnamon and coated with UVA tailgate ale. I've "started" my life in every city/country I have ever resided, in the fall season. Its always been good to me.

Funny then that with all this glee, I still have trouble emerging from my summer cocoon. Oh sure, I threw the shorts under a truck weeks ago but its the feet that are stubborn. I worship to a shrine of leather boots so its not for lack of motivation that makes the feet anxious. But I think that in a season that celebrates independence for me, covering up my feet signifies a restraint and that makes me nervous. (And perhaps after reading that sentence it signifies to you t-h-e-r-a-p-y.)

In an effort to ease my sensitive feet/psyche into enclosure, I started small today and visited a store called "Sock Dreams." I thought that walking into an all sock store was brave, like going to the Ringley Barnum & Bailey big top when you fear the painted face clowns- extreme therapy. 

The reason I mention all of this on Viggo's blog is not because socks play a significant role in Viggo's life; despite his fetish for dirty socks, he is pretty low key about his own footwear. But what he hasn't been particularly good at is accepting the arrival of fall. He stopped on his stroll down the steps for his early morning jobs. It was low 50's and he just bailed. 

I don't know how the pup brain works, if there is any sort of sensory based memory there but one would think so. He stopped as one does when they walk out the door and remember they forgot their phone. His refusal to continue down the steps was due to a reflection, not a dachshund stubbornness. Now, he is only 1-year, so he doesn't have much memory to retrieve but of the ones stored, I like to flatter myself they are happy, bacon scented memories. 

Possible hang-ups? We did put Viggo the newborn in many a fluffy sweater when we got him this time last year. Was he remembering the fleecy sweaters as torture to his manhood? Or are sweaters to Viggo like socks are to me-a physical reminder of a freedom taken away?

 

I don't want to kill the possibility of him forging a positive relationship with fall's bounty. I want to cure his seasonal disorder like the knee-high fishnet sock cured mine today. Maybe a bacon scented sock will do the trick.