Except on mornings like this...
Yeah, Short Pump has been inundated with record amounts of rain over the past 12 months, to the point where our fenced in back yard is an oozing, sodden, quagmire. With the recent sub-freezing temperatures, we have finally been able to let her back there for her morning constitutional. She has loved the cold and stays out there forever, doing her business, but also running around manically and sniffing all of the new smells she has been missing of late. Then, when she comes back in her paws are merely cold, with not a drop of moisture or mud to be found. It is a glorious.
Of course, this being Short Pump, Virginia...suddenly its 60 degrees outside and pouring rain. So, the back yard is out. At 6:15, Lucy plods down the stairs and stares me down as I sit on the sofa getting ready to take my first, magical sip of coffee. I cannot win a stare down with Lucy. Nobody can. She focuses those gigantic brown eyes at you and within minutes you are putty in her paws...Do you need to go pee, girl?... I ask, a ridiculous question, since we both know the answer. She immediately runs over to the back door, turns around and answers YES with those eyes. It is then that I inform her that we will not be going into the back yard today. No no...we will be trudging out into the front yard, in the driving rain and darkness for her first bathroom trip of the day. I put on my Columbo overcoat, grab a poop bag and launch out into the storm.
This is the part of dog ownership which makes you question your blind devotion. Lucy is fascinated by the rain. It must release a treasure trove of new smells, because when its pouring down outside she becomes obsessed with sniffing. Sometimes she even stands perfectly still and sniffs the same inch of ground for over a minute...which seems like an hour in dog years. I can plead all I want for her to get a move on. I can say, While we’re young, Lucy...while we’re young until I’m blue in the face, but it will not hurry her. She will simply not be rushed. By the time she finally squats, she is soaking sopping wet, her paws drenched. I look like an extra in On The Waterfront, and both of us smell like wet dog.
Once we’re back in the house, the five minute drying off process beings, towels strewn everywhere. I begin to sweat, I can feel my heart beating. When I finally return to the sofa, my coffee is cold. As annoyed and flustered as I am after all of this, I know that my frustration will have a very short shelf life. Within minutes, she will jump up besides me, flash me a goofy smile, then curl up next to me and let out one of those deep and peaceful sighs. All will be forgiven. I will forgive her for taking forever. She will forgive me my impatience.
See, that’s the thing about dogs. They are incapable of judgement, they don’t know how to hold a grudge. They don’t even know what a grudge is. They never get mad at you, let alone stay mad. Why would they ever get mad at you? You’re the greatest person in the history of the world! How do I know this? The eyes. It’s right there in their eyes.
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