The rain let up briefly on Saturday, but we couldn’t enjoy it because Steve and I had agreed to attend an all-day convention being held in El Cajon. We’re normally severely allergic to meetings, but this was a commitment we could not shirk. Rather than leave Beverly at home in her kennel for 8 hours, we took her with us.


She got no say in this, of course, but if she had, I’m pretty sure she would have opted out. Not a single other dog was anywhere in sight, few interesting smells were present, and while a few of the humans petted her, she got way less attention than she normally gets, say, at the grocery store.

She spent part of the day with Steve, who was manning the registration table…


…and she spent part of it with me, practicing “Under”s at one of the banquet tables. (I’d brought along a toy for her to chew, but hey, a girl can only find that satisfying for so long.) 012317-lpc3Given that, her behavior was impeccable. She never whined. She toileted on command outside on the lawn. She napped for some of the day and spent the rest of it looking serene and stoic.

She seemed thrilled, even electrified, to return home at the end of the afternoon. And then it started raining again —  so hard that last night she went on a poop strike. When she and Steve were unexpectedly caught in another violent downpour this morning, he reported that the cascade of water from the sky seemed to actually frighten her. But he reassured her, and she called down.

And some folks think service pups in training have an easy life…


Not the Dog Days


My dictionary defines “dog days”as “the hottest period of the year.” Although the term supposedly derives from the time of year when Sirius (the so-called dog star) is rising, I’ve always thought of it as meaning “so hot the dogs lay around like slugs.” But actually, most dogs are pretty sluggish all the time, and when it comes to periods of enforced, morose inactivity, nothing beats a protracted California winter storm.

We’re in the midst of one now, and after all our years of drought, I’m enjoying the drenching fury outside. But I think Beverly and Tucker hate it. We can’t go out and walk together; it’s been pouring off and on. They shrink even from going out to relieve themselves.

You don’t seriously want me to go down there, do you? I’ll get my paws wet!
Why does our nice backyard look like a swamp?

So they sleep and look sad (and maybe dream about August, when they may pant more than normal, but the ground is littered with ripe figs.) The weather forecasters are predicting this current system will last for four more days. Hooooooooowl.