lotta rain

Yesterday, the poor dog and I made all our outdoor visits in the rain. He's a terrier, so I shouldn't feel too sorry for him. His coarse outer coat dries quickly, and since his breed comes from the British Isles, I suppose he is set up for rainy days.

In his younger days, he would absolutely refuse to go out into the rain, but now he does so without much prompting, as long as it is not heavy rain. I trail him in my black topcoat and black umbrella, looking like the disinterested undertaker at the cemetary, waiting for the event to happen.

Scotties, by the way, are not very good swimmers. If fact, I am not sure if they can swim at all. Their body, perfect for digging and tunneling in search of vermin, are too top heavy for swimming, particularly with their short legs. The breed book warns against letting them fall into a swimming pool or any depth of water.

Being a clumsy sort, I've wondered what it would feel like to be dancer or an agile athlete. I suppose dogs are not envious about things like swimming.