No Jacket for You, Wimp-Dog
It rains, it pours!
Not to be deterred by a bit 'o damp, I put on my boots and rain shell and wandered into the glowing green of the apple orchard and park across our street. I stopped to take in the dappled beauty of a birch's bark, listened to the music of the deluge in the tree tops, contemplated picking an apple, tart though it may be, and eating it down to the core.
Charley, on the other hand, would have none of it. I must say, he was very business-like as he tore around the orchard, doing his business, and then smartly about-faced and made for shelter. He plowed across the cross-walk and trotted meaningfully down the sidewalk, nose set unwaveringly toward home.
Our neighbor, Arturo, one leg in his big pick-up, one leg still on the driveway, gave me an inquiring look as Charley pulled me back down the sidewalk toward home. Maybe it was partly because I was laughing out loud and admonishing: "You silly dog! You know, you're going to have to be wet most of the year. Do I have to buy you a doggy squall jacket?"
Charley was not stung by my derision. Instead, he just parked himself in front of the garage door and waited for entry.
He is a dog of comforts. When he finally gained access to the hallway, he gave a great indignant shake. As soon as I dried him off with his big towel, he paused in the doorway, head cocked, assessing whether there was any chance of a treat, and then high-tailed over to his pineapple box and borrowed into his fluffy white blanket, where he snoozes at this very moment.
Oh, p.s.
Arturo has the loveliest roses; peach-colored and delicate and smelling sweet and wonderful; and today, pearling with rain. I wish I could have smelled one today but my companion was too put-out to stop and smell the roses. (Couldn't help myself; it's Friday and a tempting day for cliches.)
Oh, yes, and there is such a thing as a doggy squall jacket. This one's on sale for only 29.50 at Land's End. I think it's on Charley's Wish List. He can just see himself in this, especially in "Blue Sky" or "Sunset Orange." But to him all I can say is, Cowboy Up. You're a dog. You get no squall jacket.
Not to be deterred by a bit 'o damp, I put on my boots and rain shell and wandered into the glowing green of the apple orchard and park across our street. I stopped to take in the dappled beauty of a birch's bark, listened to the music of the deluge in the tree tops, contemplated picking an apple, tart though it may be, and eating it down to the core.
Charley, on the other hand, would have none of it. I must say, he was very business-like as he tore around the orchard, doing his business, and then smartly about-faced and made for shelter. He plowed across the cross-walk and trotted meaningfully down the sidewalk, nose set unwaveringly toward home.
Our neighbor, Arturo, one leg in his big pick-up, one leg still on the driveway, gave me an inquiring look as Charley pulled me back down the sidewalk toward home. Maybe it was partly because I was laughing out loud and admonishing: "You silly dog! You know, you're going to have to be wet most of the year. Do I have to buy you a doggy squall jacket?"
Charley was not stung by my derision. Instead, he just parked himself in front of the garage door and waited for entry.
He is a dog of comforts. When he finally gained access to the hallway, he gave a great indignant shake. As soon as I dried him off with his big towel, he paused in the doorway, head cocked, assessing whether there was any chance of a treat, and then high-tailed over to his pineapple box and borrowed into his fluffy white blanket, where he snoozes at this very moment.
Oh, p.s.
Arturo has the loveliest roses; peach-colored and delicate and smelling sweet and wonderful; and today, pearling with rain. I wish I could have smelled one today but my companion was too put-out to stop and smell the roses. (Couldn't help myself; it's Friday and a tempting day for cliches.)
Oh, yes, and there is such a thing as a doggy squall jacket. This one's on sale for only 29.50 at Land's End. I think it's on Charley's Wish List. He can just see himself in this, especially in "Blue Sky" or "Sunset Orange." But to him all I can say is, Cowboy Up. You're a dog. You get no squall jacket.
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