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good dog

This is kind of counter-intuitive, but now that it's gotten cold, I take the Gwenmonster out with me a lot more. Her single, solitary flaw is that she can be a little, erm, enthusiastic about other dogs. And when we got here, the weather was so nice, every family dog in Lugo was out frisking in the plazas and lurking under cafe chairs. The constant gauntlet of dogs made it a bit challenging to enjoy a relaxing café con leche or glass of Rioja, so Gwen had to stay at home, no matter how many sad, Mom-I'm-such-a-good-dog-why-don't-you-love-me-anymore eyes she gave me.

But now, cold and slow, dripping, misty rain is the norm. For some incomprehensible reason, Spaniards and their dogs don't seem to be flocking to outdoor seating areas in quite the same numbers.

Gwen and I are quite happy to take their places. There are a few cafes with heaters for their outdoor tables (one in the Praza Maior even offers cozy fleece blankets), so we've been rotating between them. At one place, Gwen has made friends with the waiter, who offers her ham from the tray he brings around to the humans.

What a hard life.

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