The Doggie Soul Destroyer is parked over the Great White North

by Janie Jones

I appreciate a good rain storm now and then.  As Eddie Rabbitt has been heard to croon,

“Oh, I love a rainy night, such a beautiful sight.  I love to hear the thunder, watch the lightning as it lights up the sky…”

Rupert however, is petrified to incapacitation by the rain.

We’ve been having an amazing spate of rainfall in my neck of the Great White North lately, and while my garden is loving it, I’m getting a little tired of having to squeeze a mow in every three to four days, and that’s if I’m lucky and the rain stops long enough to get out and mow.  But it’s not just the irritating speed at which the grass grows and fighting the damp grass which clogs the mower that’s getting tiresome.  It’s the trembling of any piece of furniture poor Rupert is currently hiding under or the pools of drool left behind when he pants himself into a puddle and moves off to drier ground.  Poor guy.  I sincerely hope he doesn’t panic himself all the way to a heart attack.

What a rainy summer is good for though, is sleeping in and having no excuse but to sit and finish reading that dreaded literary nemesis of mine, A Stranger in a Strange Land.  Yes.  I finished it.  Yesterday.  Finally.

But that will be a separate post.




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