Chaplin's relationship to cold weather

He likes the snow! But he hates the wind! He alternates between bounding like a bunny over the drifts and cowering near our neighbor's concrete planter and then pulling toward home.  He wears a $24 waterproof doggie coat that un-velcros every time he moves. It has a tiny hood that looks cute when he's not in motion, but immediately falls off or blocks his vision when he takes a step. We tried to get him to put on doggie boots to prevent salt wounds on his little paws, but they were too small and it seemed unbelievably first-world problem-ish of us to own them, so we returned the four mini boots for an overpriced bag of organic dog food.  Since he has a fairly short memory, he doesn't remember that it's cold outside when we pull out the leash. He jumps up, and spins, excited to go out into what I can only imagine he thinks is possibly a summer, squirrel-filled day. Then, when we open the door and are hit in the face with an icy blast of wet snow, he tries to turn back inside, pretending that he has changed his mind.   In super icy weather, his pee will freeze on his penis, creating a yellow dangling icicle that would be cute if it weren't so very disgusting. We wipe his feet with a towel when he comes in from the walk, but almost never catch him to do this before he first jumps on the bed. When he comes in, he likes to sit on the radiator, but requires a towel over it so he doesn't sustain third degree burns on his undercarriage. He has learned that the sooner he does his business, the sooner we go back inside and he gets a treat. That is a blessing. You only have to repeat a task and reward the dog about 500 times before it sticks for good. Tomorrow, the high will be 16, the low is predicted to be 4 degrees. We don't want to go out either. But we have not ever taught him how to pee on a puppy pad (I feel good about this), and so we will hunker down, bootie-less, and face the cold.