The Safety of Our Furry Friends in Austin, a Concrete Heat Radiating Jungle
“[Your dog] can speak for himself, but he can't shop for himself.”
Or so proclaimed a Chewy commercial I saw recently, spurring my thinking. In the advertisement, the dog’s joyful barks were her own passionate endorsement of a new order of dog food. It struck me—if dogs could shop, what would they buy? Living in Austin, I bet shoes would top their list.
Austin rightfully prides itself on being a dog-friendly, green city — residents can cite several iconic green and water-front public landmarks characteristic of Austin. It's the largest no-kill city in America, making it a paradise for pooches. Anecdotally, Austin's dog-friendly reputation means you'll spot them tagging along nearly everywhere. But how friendly do our dogs find it?
While Austin might be seen from a birds-eye view as a lush expanse of green, the reality on the ground can be quite different. Outside all the city’s green spaces, I would still be apprehensive about approaching the pavement with my hands or feet. Instinctually, I'd sense, well into Texas’ fall season, the pavement would still leave one's hands shocked and flushed.
The City of Austin asserts there are 40,000 acres of protected land in the area, yet, from a dog's-eye view, the city might resemble a sea of heat-radiating pavement—an “urban heat island.”
An urban heat island is a metropolitan area experiencing significantly higher temperatures than its surrounding rural areas because of factors like the population and the prevalence of heat-absorbing surfaces like asphalt and concrete.
Trevor Brooks, a doctoral student studying extreme weather and urban heat at The University of Texas at Austin, said dogs have a different perspective on Austin’s climate, literally.
“Because dogs are close to the ground, they’re exposed to higher levels of heat radiation from pavement surfaces, which can be significantly hotter than air temperature,” Brooks said.
Dogs, unique in their status as go-everywhere pets, experience a challenge shared by countless animals: adapting to an environment people have created. Further, they’re unable to take advantage of the man-made construct — the shields, in essence — of footwear.
Dogs, for all their wonderful qualities, cannot control their environment or speak for themselves — regardless of what Chewy's might be trying to humorously imply when a dog barks for food. Your dog understands food well. But they, in contrast, probably does not have a well-developed sense of the concept of footwear.
“Education is one of the biggest things,” Brooks said. “Not many people think of heat as something that can kill them, or their dogs. I see people walking with Siberian huskies, unshaven. Maybe don't do that in Austin.”
People’s perception of the climate ought to play a part in the strategies taken to address extreme weather. But how we regard the weather, in our shoes (literally), might be at our dogs’ detriment. “Heat is the largest weather-related killer in the US, yet there’s a stigma about ‘sweating it through,” said Brooks.
Though our dogs experience the weather, they can’t comment on it or otherwise participate in enacting any policy.
Trevor Brooks assured me Austin officials are taking steps to address the city’s heat island effect, implementing solutions like those aforementioned reflective pavements or increasing green spaces. But until these changes take effect, our dogs rely on us to make smart choices for them.
According to Brooks, avoiding walks during the hottest hours, 12-3 p.m., ensuring proper grooming for the climate and, maybe, providing your furry friends some shoes would go a long way. Such is the life of a dog in the concrete jungle of Austin, where being dog-friendly might mean more than initially realized.
Our four-legged companions can't shop for themselves, but maybe we should be shopping with their paws in mind.