It's that time of year again. The dreaded seven months of the year in the Pacific Northwest that we complain about most. The season that starts with a four letter word and is often followed by other four-letter descriptors we don't say around our grandmas. That's right - RAIN.
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| Sappho in her special rain suit. |
No one enjoys it. The trio of intrepid terriers who prowl the campus each lunch hour with a fierceness instead gear up in rain coats and venture outside with dropped heads and tails.
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| No ma'am, I don't like this rain! |
We go through this every season. The dogs become so used to the sunshine that they forget how to walk in the rain, and so the first few walks this time of year are filled with guilt-inducing dawdles, miserable looks, hunched body language, and squinted eyes as if they can't see through the stinging, burning, horror of the gently falling raindrops.
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| She has never been so miserable as she is in this moment, in this rain. |
Given enough time doing the same walk we do every day rain or shine, they start to come around.
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| I guess I can sniff and pee on things still... |
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| I just heard something! |
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| I guess I can still hunt too. |
Their body language starts changing. They don't love the rain, but they seem to remember that it isn't as bad as it seemed when they first started out.
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| I'm not real happy, but I'm getting into the walk! |
They start moving out from behind me or right beside me to out in front or exploring.
But make no mistake. On these first few walks in the rain there is one message they never stop saying....
Rain sucks!
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