Weather Dogs

They do not like the rain. It makes them lazy(er) and bossy(er) and noisy(er). The brown one, Lily, is already constantly making some kind of gross noise, burping and farting and slurping gulpy nasty grunty noises that people think “oh that’s so funny” until you have to listen to it constantly then I just want to bop her on the head and tell her to STOP. Sometimes I do, and she does, after giving me an accusing stare for a few seconds, as if to say “if I were a human I’d have nicer parents than you” and I tell her “you’re a dog and here by my pleasure and it doesn’t please me to listen to you slurp and fart all day long.”

Rain dogs, closely supervised by Gracie the cat

The cats aren’t fond of the rain either. Phleud has sense enough to determine that it will soon rain, and come on inside. Gracie chooses to wait until the evidence of rain is irrefutable, then bursts through the pet door, spitting and hissing and cursing a blue streak. She’ll then spend the next hour or so informing the inhabitants of the household of her extreme displeasure and possibly even look for a shoe to poop in. Fortunately it’s never mine. Once she has recovered her composure, she and Phleud are unconcerned with the meteorological conditions, and resume their regular household activities.

Regular household activites: Gracie plays, Phleud watches.

Here lately it has been raining a lot. It’s typical Spring weather, with downpours and violence and occasional mayhem. I like it. Grey boring blah rain is grey,boring and blah. Violence and mayhem appeal to my need for violence and mayhem, without me having to take the blame for the results. It’s like getting to be a Viking for a couple of hours, and watch the world (and pine trees) wail at the injustice of my mercurial moods,only they aren’t mine, so NO ONE can point their finger at me and howl “YOU DID THIS!” Not even CJ, who discovered 2 inches of water in the floor of his car. He swears up and down he didn’t leave the sunroof open, but I have my doubts about that one.

So instead of responsibility for the grass seed washing into the ditch, I can sit in the warm chair, and watch it wash, and go “tsk…” while I drink a cup of hot tea and listen to the dogs grunt and slurp.

About rootietoot

I do what I can.
This entry was posted in cat, Dewicate feewings, dogs!, In The Southland. Bookmark the permalink.

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