Monday, July 13, 2020

That Kind of Wet

Dusty Quinn

We live in the Pacific Northwest.  It rains here. The good news is where we are located, in the rain shadow of the Cascade and Olympic mountains, we’re spared a lot of precipitation.  The not so good news is even a little drizzle upsets a usually well-executed schedule.   

 

Having owned many dogs over the years, I know firsthand the benefits of getting pups on a regular schedule.  Specific meal and yard times are best for dogs and once past house training stages there’s never a puddle or poop gift in the house.  Same deal with Dusty.  Our routine is well-established and he happily romps to the door when I call him for outie time, except when it’s raining.  Not sure how he knows it’s sprinkling out there, but when it is he slithers instead of romping when I call and needs a little bum push out the door.  Dusty isn’t a fan of getting wet.  So last night for our final yard time in a slight drizzle he descended the deck steps hugging against the house, tiptoed to the grass to pee and then raced back up onto the deck pressing his snout against the door.  Staying dry under the house eave, I called him to come back down.  He didn’t budge.  He always poops last thing in the evening, so I wanted to keep to the schedule and not have an uncomfortable pooch whimpering in the middle of the night.  Fortunately, I had his leash in my pocket.  I climbed the steps.  His fluffy tail wagged wildly anticipating going inside, getting a cookie, curling on a dry bed.  I clipped the leash to his collar and hustled him, with some resistance on his part, back down the steps and through the shower to his favorite spot at the far end of the yard.  He quickly circled in the wet grass, emptying his innards in record time.  Once unleashed he raced like a jack rabbit to the house, leaving me dripping in the rain.  Back inside I slid out of soggy shoes and clothing and he was rewarded with his favorite treat.   Although wet and cold I was happy that we kept to our routine.   Wonder what the problem is?  He always seems to enjoy his bath.  How can we work on this rain issue?

 

I don’t like getting outdoor wet.  Don’t mind my baths with warm water and sudsy soap that makes me smell good, but not a fan of chilly drops of rain on my bod, especially when I’m looking for just the right spot to poop. And tonight was the worst.  I was TETHERED right in my own yard.  My old girl hooked me up and made me walk in the rain. Oh, the humiliation!  In her defense, she did take me to the exact right place under the trees where I didn’t get too drippy.   Kind of sorry she got soaked, she really is so good to me, but she’s flexible and will adjust (she’s just has to adjust) to carting me through the rain on my leash to the shelter of trees, because I’m never going to like getting that kind of wet.