There was a point in time when I loved rainy days. Living in San Diego we rarely get them, so I used to take advantage of them when they came around. I love watching the water hit the windows, and hearing it too. I love sitting on the couch with an amazing book and just getting absorbed. Even after I had Joli, rainy days still seemed somewhat relaxing. Joli loves to play pretend, to climb on her slide, and to read the many books that we have. She's especially in love with the Disney books that I used to read as a child.
Unfortunately the last eight months have brought me pretty close to hating rainy days with every fiber of my being. This morning started out overcast, and perfect in my opinion. Then Joli said "It's wet on my porch". Well great, now I get to go set up the layers of towels on the kitchen floor so I can go get the dog before he digs yet another large mud puddle in the yard. And since he can't seem to walk into the house calmy and relax with us, I have to feel like a horrible person and put him in doggy prison.
Once he stops whining (and jumping, and howling, and barking, and doing flips) then I get somewhat brave, and put up two more baby gates, and then let him into the living room. Then Joli spends the next two hours hiding in her bedroom because Kota won't keep his nose or his tail or his body out of her face. And I either hide out in the kitchen until I've cooked and cleaned everything, or I make a useless attempt at reading while I repeatively push the 90 lbs. dog out of my lap.
I'm sure there will be a point somewhere in the extremely distant future, long after our children have moved out, and Kota has passed on, and I will think maybe there is some chance that I would like get another dog, and I hope at that point I will have this post and the many that have come before it to look at.
Unfortunately the last eight months have brought me pretty close to hating rainy days with every fiber of my being. This morning started out overcast, and perfect in my opinion. Then Joli said "It's wet on my porch". Well great, now I get to go set up the layers of towels on the kitchen floor so I can go get the dog before he digs yet another large mud puddle in the yard. And since he can't seem to walk into the house calmy and relax with us, I have to feel like a horrible person and put him in doggy prison.
Once he stops whining (and jumping, and howling, and barking, and doing flips) then I get somewhat brave, and put up two more baby gates, and then let him into the living room. Then Joli spends the next two hours hiding in her bedroom because Kota won't keep his nose or his tail or his body out of her face. And I either hide out in the kitchen until I've cooked and cleaned everything, or I make a useless attempt at reading while I repeatively push the 90 lbs. dog out of my lap.
I'm sure there will be a point somewhere in the extremely distant future, long after our children have moved out, and Kota has passed on, and I will think maybe there is some chance that I would like get another dog, and I hope at that point I will have this post and the many that have come before it to look at.
1 comment:
He'll get older and less bouncy. And Joe will help make him obey.
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