Walking the Dog on a Night Like This

It’s May 1 and I’m wearing a stocking cap. I’m not sure if it’s going to help, but with the rain pouring down and a dog hopping around while crossing all four legs, I’m going outside. And my raincoat? The really good one that I use for camping trips? It’s doing a fine job keeping the trunk of my car dry.

Maybe an umbrella, you ask? Nope. I’ve long distrusted umbrellas, since those breezy college days, when winds would blow off the plains and rush between the campus buildings, creating little wind tunnels that would rip umbrellas from unsuspecting hands, or if you were prepared, the wind would just turn the umbrella inside out. Do this enough times and you don’t have an umbrella – you have a frame with little nylon tatters hanging from it. Mother Nature can be a real bitch sometimes.

So I open the door to the howling winds, preparing for a long, cold soak, and Trudy stares out the door, cocks her head and looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.

“Go out? In this? Are you crazy?” Her little brown eyes seemed to say.

I dragged her out of the house, because by God, if I’m getting soaked, then so is she.

We made it to the gate in my backyard before she stopped, took care of business in the yard, and started pulling me back to the house.

By this time, I’m looking around for the Four Horsemen, because this never happens and I’m thinking that the world is truly coming to an end. Trudy lives for the outdoors. She stares out the windows longingly. She loves sniffing at every blade of grass, every wayward leaf, every acorn or piece of trash on the streets (mainly she’s looking for food).

Lightning? No problem? Thunder? She’s stone deaf, so while I might be cringing and hoping the next blast of lightning isn’t aiming for me, she’s gleefully oblivious to me sparking like a roman candle. Wind? I could be blowing around the block like that cow in Twister (I can’t believe I actually watched it this weekend, and more importantly, I can’t believe I actually saw that piece of crap in the theaters – twice), and Trudy would be trying to take a dump in the crazy old man’s yard. She’s equally ignorant of plummeting temperatures and ice storms.

But a little rain, and she’s hauling ass back into the house.

Who knew? Maybe these smart pills are working (I know that fusion generator in the basement didn’t build itself and I sure didn’t do it. I’m not sure where she found the deuterium, and really, I don’t want to know). Maybe she’s just gaining wisdom with age.

All I know is that on a night where most sane people would be staying indoors keeping warm and dry, I was standing outside in a jacket and stocking cap, trying to coax a dog into staying outside to relieve herself.

Who needs the smart pills now?