Rain, rain, rain!!!!!
There have been times in the last few soggy days when I have
wondered seriously if we should start building an ark.
Lord knows I have the beginnings of the zoo it would take to
fill one.
There was a simpler time in life when I loved a rainy day or
night. The soft pitter patter of rain drops on my window, the quiet roar of a
sudden down pour on the roof, the gentleness of a spring shower: all of these
things used to be so relaxing and renewing to me.
If I had my way now, I‘d build a glass dome over top of my
entire property and never let a drop of the stuff ever touch the ground around
me again.
What was the reason for this change of heart? It should be self-explanatory that my insane
for the rain was brought on by my five canine convicts, of course.
I guess being a sugar
foot is a black lab thing, though I was always told Labs were water dogs.
NOT!
Lucy, the Queen matriarch of the House of L, has not changed
her mind about being wet. She hates it. She deplores it! She absolutely,
positively, DESPISES rain.
Therefore, getting her outside to do any sort of potty time
in wet weather is like trying to talk a deaf mule into a fifty mile hike up a
mountainside. In other words: it isn’t going
to happen. As soon as I send out the call for volunteers to exit the back door,
she immediately runs into her house. We
call it her “Fraidy Hole”. When the weather is wet, you can sure bet that even
if I stuck dynamite under her fat furry fanny and put a hydrogen bomb in her old
buck teeth, she would still sit glued to the bottom of her kennel.
Of course she would look like Wyle E. Coyote after the blast—but
I digress.
Linus, our newest induction into the hall of shame, has the
same problem as Lucy. He will NOT venture out into the wet. I push, I pull, I command him to enter the
soggy fray and do his business. But I get nowhere. Linus has a big goofy smile,
and very expressive, big brown eyes. It is through these portals to the soul that
I can actually see him saying in a perfect Mortimer Snerd voice, “Nope,
nope,nope, nope.”
Hines, the rat terror (I mean terrier) of Dogwood, has an
issue with the rain as well. Our welcome
mat stretches out in front of the back door, and also rests under the dryer
vent. Because the dryer is ALWAYS
RUNNING, and giving off a blast of hot air through the vent, the rug is always
dry. This is where my special little guy chooses to park himself.
Here and nowhere else.
Daisy, my only reason to own a Thunder straight jacket, will
run out into the rain, pee all over the concrete of the patio, and then bound
back under the cover of the car port.
Leave it to Daisy to do what I ask—but do it half assed.
I’m assuming that everyone understands that those who don’t
go outside end up having “OOPPSY”S” on the dining room floor—correct???
Who is the only fur child who obeys? The one with the heart
of a lion and the expression of a brow beaten clown: my Charlie. Charlie is neither afraid of water, thunder,
nor lightning. He is not afraid to slog through the mud, wallow in the soaked
grass, or run between the rain soaked bushes.
My Charlie, my love, my best pal: my walking ball of mud and soppy fur.
Yes. Once upon a time, a rainy day brought a blissful state
of mind to this old man.
But I try to look on the bright side of things. Without
these four legged felons who control my life, and without the wonders and love
they bring me every moment of our time together, what would my existence
be? It would be one where it rained
EVERY DAY, dark and gloomy, lonely and full of sad.
If all it takes to keep my life complete is a few towels, a
mop, a bucket, and a can of Lysol, I’ll endure the occasional rainy season.
After all, whether it be in my mind or in my yard, the sun
has to come out sometime.
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