Monday, January 12, 2015

Lucy in the Rain

I wake up to the sound of rain. I glance at the clock and notice that I have overslept by an hour. It is 36 degrees outside. My backyard is a muddy, soupie quagmire by now and soon Lucy will need to go out for her morning constitutional. It is January the 12th, 67 days until Spring. It is a Monday. Beautiful.

Four million Frenchmen gathered in the streets over the weekend for a giant show of solidarity against terrorism. Among the throngs were many prominent heads of State. The Obama administration is being roundly criticized this morning for failing to send anyone other than the Ambassador to France to attend the rally. I disagree for a variety of reasons.

First, I don't recall world leaders all showing up in New York City for a Kumbaya parade after 9/11. I have nothing against these types of demonstrations, but frankly, they just aren't my style. Emotional gatherings featuring mass-produced "Je Suis Charlie" signs might make the people of France feel better and that's good, but as a matter of policy, it accomplishes absolutely nothing. France is still teeming with angry, radicalized Muslims and the next violent, nonsensical attack on innocents is coming sooner rather than later. Secondly, Obama was in a classic catch 22 here. If he hops on a plane and flies over to Paris and appears in the front of the line of world leaders he would get criticized for grandstanding, for attempting to make it all about him, of simply trying to create a grand optic. If he sent Joe Biden instead, he would have run the risk that old Joe would have said something stupid..."Hey Angela, what does a guy gotta do to get a croissant around here?" So, the President decided to keep everyone home and he gets hammered for it. That's fine with me. Being President is all about being damned if you do and damned if you don't. I suppose he could have sent John Kerry, our very French-looking Secretary of State, but no telling what old Lurch might have done or said. No, I support the President on this one.

Lucy is laying on the rug by the back door staring at me. It's as if she knows that she needs to go do her business but she knows how gross it is outside. She's got that look that says, "I wonder how long I can hold it?" I better not let her find out. So I will put on my raincoat, get the leash and a fresh poop bag and walk out into the front yard in the pouring rain watching Lucy go through her elaborate voyage of discovery, searching for the ideal, perfectly positioned six inch square of real estate worthy of her prodigious morning bowel movement. She will not be rushed by the elements. If anything, it takes her even longer in the rain. Of course, probably 99% of dog owners would be using an umbrella in times like these. Not me. My oversized black and white Titleist umbrella is far too horrifying for my Lucy. She couldn't possibly be expected to relax enough to perform her morning toilette with so menacing an object over my head. So, when finally she is done, both of us will be soaked.

Despite it all, I so completely love this dog. I love every eccentric, jumpy, neurotic, adorable inch of her. Crazy dog!