How the Dogs Fared

During the "height" of the storm Alex didn't want us to let Rudi out on the patio, lest the wind pick him up and blow him over the railings.  That would have been horrible.  But we ignored her warnings, because the wind wasn't strong enough to blow up a balloon, much less Rudi into the abyss.  He would run out, oblivious to the rain, stick his head through the railings, and let out a few impotent barks to the let the hurricane know who was boss, then trot back indoors, shaking himself.

Maddie had no interest in testing the rain.  She hates rain, and won't even walk the day after a good storm.  And when she does finally condescend to take a walk, her sole interest lies in lapping away at puddles with rainbows of oil and antifreeze in them.  We're constantly yanking her away from such poisoned wells.  

So they got to spend Saturday sprawled on the bed, happily freed from the responsibility of going outside to relieve themselves.  It's easy to call them lazy, but we wouldn't like it very much either if we  had to leave the house every time we had to take a piss.

We tried to find replacements for their walk, exercise-wise, but in vain did we attempt to talk them into reenacting the epic tank battle of Kursk, with Rudi playing a King Tiger tank and Maddie playing the part of a dependable Russian T-34.  Turns out dogs don't care much about World War II, all they care about is getting jerky treats.  Which, if we were a dog, is probably all we'd care about either.  That and barking.  Rudi's a lot like us, which is why, despite his pronounced anti-social behavior, we love him so darn much. 

Comments

[gillian]

This is love and it makes me smile.

[UF MIKE]

They never fail to make me smile. That's love, isn't it?

[MartAlere]

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