I’m in a foul mood today, so this communiqué will be short. It’s been raining for three days and three nights. One more day of this miserable weather and I’m going to have Andrew build us an ark. Well, maybe not, seeing as how we already live on a boat. We being myself, Danny the Dog, and my human, Andrew.
The thing about rain I don’t like is that it’s wet. It soaks your fur; it keeps you inside when you could be out chasing iguanas or running down a tantalizing scent. And to top it off, it brings thunder with it. And I don’t like thunder! Another thing I don’t like about rain is that one has to go outside to do one’s “business.” Hey . . . I can hold it. I’ll wait until it’s dry outside, but Andrew insists that I go out at least twice a day. Rain or shine.
When it’s raining, Andrew puts on some sort of yellow getup that keeps him dry, but does he have one of those things for me? Nope!
For three days now, he’s taken me—against my will—outside with him in the rain. If I knew how to use a phone, I’d report him to the Humane Society. But I show him. When we come back, I jump up on the bed and roll around until I’m dry. I don’t mind wet sheets, but for some reason Andrew seems to.
So, here I sit at the computer, and I know with a certainty that the big lummox is going to come to me any minute and say, “Okay, boy. Let’s go for a walk.” And I’ll be thinking, “Okay, human; how about I just bite you instead?”
Here he comes. The next time we talk, I’ll let you know if we went out in the rain or if I bit him.
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