Man the lifeboats. We are having a lot of rain events. Our backyard is a swamp. Miles and Tiegan do not approve. Granted, our back yard is foliage-challenged because two very energetic dogs race madly about and our grass, already frail due to lots of trees and not enough sunlight, is giving up the struggle in many spots. We find ourselves walking Tiegan and Miles down the street in the rain, explaining if only they would go potty, we could all go home and be warm and dry. Wouldn’t that be lovely?
I carry my tiny, dainty Tiegan down the street, put her down occasionally and cajole. She shakes the rain off her water repellant coat and looks at me sadly, as though she simply cannot believe such horrid treatment at the hands of her loving mother. Then, of course, I pick her up, cradle her against me, apologize profusely, and carry her home.
Miles stands on the porch with his head out the doggy door, refusing to expose any other body parts to the dreaded moisture. He requires yummy harness treats to get ready to go for a walk. As soon as we exit the garage, he drags me down the street, determined to explore. My boy who makes it clear he will melt if he encounters moisture in the fenced back yard then stands in running water as he sniffs a storm drain. Sigh