You Don't Need A Weatherman

This spring has been disappointing as far as the weather goes. It’s already well into June, and we’ve only had a little more than one week of hot weather. And that was in May. Since then, there's been one good day for a bike ride, and the rest of the time it’s been cold, raining, or cold and raining.

It’s a good thing I have a dog living with me, or I’d probably never get to go for a walk in the rain.

Today I got up at 6:45 and it was raining. I took the garbage out, took Sandy out to the end of the driveway for a pee, fixed myself the last of the Peet’s coffee, and sat down at the computer to start the day and wait for it to clear up. At 8:30, I was still at the computer and it had still not cleared up. Sandy sat down next to me and gave me the most reproachful look in the history of the world forever.

“Hey, Dog. It’s raining,” I pointed out.

“And?” she replied.

“And it’s cold, too.”

That was not a convincing argument. Sandy was the one wearing the fur coat.

Ten minutes later we’re outside for our walk, Sandy trying to go fast, and me stumbling along in shorts, shirt, flannel shirt over that, raincoat over that, sandals and Tilley hat. “It’s raining harder than ever, Sandy,” I complained.

She stopped. She turned. She sat. She looked at me. “You control the food. You control the door. You control the play dates. You control the walks. Are you telling me you DON’T control the weather?”

We pushed on.

“I kind of like walking in the rain, Dog.”

“Me too,” Sandy said, tail wagging.