By John Jefferson

Ooops! Guess I was typing faster than my brain was dictating! I apparently omitted the word, “the,” in the title just before the word “Heat.”

Sorry if this disappoints a few who expected a prurient report of Pooch’s love life. This is a piece about protecting your best friend from the effects of Texas’ scorchingly hot weather.

I take it seriously. I’ve written about it multiple times. It was frighteningly suggested after our walk Wednesday evening last week as I watched my four-year-old cross between a Labrador retriever and a German short-haired pointer. He lay panting furiously on the living room floor, jerking his long hind legs in perfect time with heart beats that were apparent in his oversized chest.

His name is ChewPee, inspired by his early puppyhood pastimes. He has the oversized chest of a pointer – the physical feature of running dogs like greyhounds, whippets, and bird dogs.

But he had run too much and too fast in near 90-degree heat.

Dogs do that. They’re bred to run. And, like eating, they don’t know when to quit. I drove them to the neighborhood dog park since it has a large water bowl right by a faucet with a hose. Chewp hits it frequently during his romps.

A couple of his friends and their owners were already there. The dogs loved the playfulness that followed. They were having fun. A gentle breeze was comforting, but I was sitting still. Time passed quickly. We probably stayed longer than wise.

Back at home, he was panting harder and faster than ever. It went on way too long. I watched him the entire time I was eating supper. Eventually, the violent panting slowed; finally stopping.

Near Brady on an afternoon dove hunt in 105-degree heat, we hunted beneath a mesquite tree.  I made a wet depression and covered it with a wet towel for my Lab, “Pilo.” After half a limit of retrieves, I winged a dove, and it sailed about seventy yards. We started toward it. Pilo stopped, turned around, and headed back to her wet wallow without getting the dove. I realized then our hunt was over. She was dangerously hot.

Later that evening, sitting by the pool, she brought me a feathered dove dropped in the parking lot by partying Louisiana hunters preparing to BBQ. (She was making up for aborting her last attempted retrieve.)

Some people in our neighborhood walk dogs during the hottest times. It hurts me to think how that hot concrete must affect their paws. Internet research drove it home.

Ground temperature after even a partial day in the summer sun and heat can reach well over 145-degrees Fahrenheit! I’ve heard reports of rattlesnakes seeking retained warmth on paved South Texas roads on chilling fall nights — and seen a man frying eggs on a sun-drenched sidewalk!

Dogs’ calloused paws aren’t indestructible, and vet bills can be painful, too.

Don’t make your dog suffer. YOU wouldn’t want to walk barefooted on hot asphalt, would you?

JJ