As much as I love the rain and the re-greening of the park and hillsides, I must say, I'm quite ready for it to end. Storm after storm has passed through for nearly three days and we've had nothing but cold, miserable weather accompanied by an unending shower of heavy, gray rain. Our walks have been short and when we do amble outside we move quickly. It's no easy task taking Duncan outside in the rain. I have to lay down the rug and get the towel ready for our return, then shake out my rain jacket which is usually still damp from our previous foray outside. Dunc, who does not like getting wet, pines at the window and whines at the door for long periods of time only to get outside, duck his head low and glare at me accusingly, as if the weather is somehow my fault, as if these wretched April storms and October skies have anything to do with me. And even though he's miserable I'm forced to coax him along and drag him behind me, encouraging him repeatedly, "Come on, Roo, go potty so we can go inside." He dillies and dallies, sniffs even more diligently than he usually does and take his sweet time picking out a nice spot for his business, turning this way and that, squatting or leaning forward only to decide at the last minute that he could do better and begins the search anew. And all the while I stand nearby, huddled up, shaking the water from my glasses and bouncing on my heels to keep warm.
We've both had a serious case of cabin fever but Duncan shamelessly let me know how dissatisfied he is with our current weather conditions this morning. He started whining a little after 6:30, so I climbed out of bed and thinking we could somehow manage a quick trip outside threw on my slicker and slipped into my flip flops, which were sitting near the door. Duncan chirped and danced around me while I grabbed a few doggy bags and put his leash and collar on. As soon as the door was open he bolted down the breezeway and into the soup that is our front yard, dragging me behind him, my feet almost instantly cold and soggy. He poked around the patch of lawn at the front of the building then led me into the parking lot and up the drive toward The Glen, where, at the corner he spotted the tall Snapdragons in all their pink and yellow and peach glory. I don't know what it is about those flowers but he can't resist marking them as his own. And so while I stood faithfully nearby, watching the early traffic on Bowles, Duncan raised his leg and leaned a little too far back, his stream missing the flowers completely, arching, instead, over the sidewalk and right onto my bare, flip flopped foot. At first I didn't know what was happening and thought something along the lines of, "Wow, that rain is really warm... and concentrated," but then looked down and jumped back. There wasn't far to go as I still held his leash, which isn't that long. And because we were standing on a very busy corner I couldn't let go for fear he'd step off the curb and into traffic. About all I could do was move back and avoid the splash. He stared up at me the entire time, shamelessly, then turned when he'd finished kicked some wet grass in my direction and led me back home, where the towel I'd set out for him came in quite handy for myself.
If there is no sun tomorrow I think I'll go insane.