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Winter through a dog's nose

From November the walk becomes an obligation to be discharged quickly. For the animal on the other end of the lead it is a different set of information.

From November the walk changes character. It happens in the dark at both ends of the day, the ground is wet, and the temptation is to treat it as an obligation to be discharged as quickly as possible. Ten minutes around the block, back inside, done.

Which is a shame, because for the animal on the other end of the lead, winter is not a diminished version of summer. It is a different set of information.

What the cold does to a smell

Scent behaves differently in cold, damp air than in dry heat. Warmth lifts odour molecules and disperses them upwards; cool, moist conditions keep them closer to the ground and tend to hold them in place for longer. This is why tracking work is often easier on a damp morning than on a hot afternoon, and why a dog on a December evening will stand over a single patch of grass with an absorption that looks, to a person standing in the rain, faintly absurd.

What it is doing is reading something that has kept unusually well. The fox that crossed at four, the dog that passed an hour ago, the shopping bag that leaked. In July that information would have thinned and lifted within minutes.

The walk you find least enjoyable is frequently the one the dog finds most interesting. That is an unfair arrangement and it is worth knowing about.

The collapse nobody notices

Watch what happens to a household's routine between October and February. The morning walk shortens because it is dark and you are late. The evening walk shortens because it is dark and you are tired. Nobody decides this; it accumulates.

By January a dog that had ninety minutes a day in September is getting thirty-five, and the household is dealing with a dog that cannot settle, has started barking at the corridor and is chewing things it had left alone since spring. The dog is then described as having become difficult over the winter, which is true and points at the wrong cause.

The substitution that works

You cannot add daylight. You can change what the available minutes contain.

Twenty minutes in which a dog is permitted to stop, investigate, follow a line along a hedge and stand still over a lamp post does more to settle it than forty minutes of brisk walking at your pace. Sniffing is cognitively demanding in a way that trotting beside a human is not, and a dog that has been allowed to do it comes home genuinely satisfied rather than merely exercised.

In practice: a longer line where it is safe, a route with hedges, grass margins and interesting corners rather than the loop around the block, and the patience to stand in the rain for ninety seconds while nothing appears to be happening.

Indoors, the same principle. Food scattered in a towel, a search for a hidden toy, five minutes of teaching something new. On the evenings when the weather is genuinely hostile, that combination gets a dog through the day better than a forced march does.

The one thing winter really does take away

Not exercise, which can be replaced. Daylight, which cannot.

For a household that leaves before sunrise and returns after dark, the dog spends four months without seeing the sun except at weekends. That affects sleep rhythms in dogs as it does in people, and it is the single strongest practical argument for a midday outing between November and February: not the distance, not the toilet break, but the fact that it is the only walk of the day that happens in the light.

A small case for the season

Winter walking has compensations that nobody advertises. The paths are empty, which matters enormously for a reactive or nervous dog, and the six weeks when everyone else stays indoors are the best training window of the year. Frost makes the valley tracks firm instead of muddy. Snow, when it comes, changes every familiar smell at once, which is why dogs behave as though a known route has become a new one.

And there is the specific pleasure, familiar to anyone who walks a dog in this country in January, of coming back into a warm flat with a wet animal, both of you having been somewhere that nobody else could be bothered to go.

General information for dog owners in Luxembourg, not veterinary or legal advice. For your own dog, ask your vet, a qualified behaviourist or your commune. How this journal is written and checked.

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Between the articles

Dogs being dogs, in every season.

The practical reading is above. This part is just for the pleasure of it.

A retriever lying in a meadow of daisies
Daisies
A corgi and a small terrier side by side in long grass
Two friends
A dog sitting on a brick street between apartment buildings
Waiting at the corner
A golden dog asleep under a knitted blanket
Blanket weather
A fluffy dog relaxing in the sunlight
Sunlight
A white dog on its cushion in a living room
On the cushion
A short-coated dog asleep on grey fabric
Deep sleep
A white dog on a lead during an autumn walk
On the lead
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