Over about three hours today, the temperature dropped from 30-feels-like-41 to 20-feels-like-26, and the rain started. Not the wild thunderstorms promised by the Weather Network, but a nice steady gentle rain. The dogs were wild with joy (granted, this is a common state for the dogs, but still): the Fluffy Dog got all uppity and started singing the song of his people, while the old Brindle Dog paced between me and the door, pointedly squeaking for attention. I get it, I told them (come on, we all talk to our dogs). You want a rain walk.
The summer has been hot. For weeks now, there have been thunderstorm watches and warnings, but hardly any rain. The garden is wilting and so are the dogs (see the Fluffster’s resigned pose above). I don’t like to use too much water in the yard, so the flowers are suffering, although I’ve kept the vegetables alive. And normally I would fill the wading pool for the Fluffy Dog, but he’s still recovering from that hot spot and ideally, his tail should be kept dry.
So off we went this evening for a ramble in the soft rain. I don’t often take the two dogs out at the same time for a long walk, since the Brindle Dog’s stamina is starting to fail, and also she has, uh, “issues” with other dogs. It’s just more pleasant to walk them separately. But when it’s raining, almost nobody else is out with their dogs, so tonight I assembled leashes and keys and poop bags and off we went. Far away, thunder was rolling, but the Fluffy Dog wasn’t even concerned.
How lovely it must be for them when it rains after a long hot spell! All those good damp scents being released. This was a slow walk with lots of sniffing and multiple pees. No poop, though, which is disappointing, since the rain is getting harder now just in time for their last pee before bed. It’s not so fun to go to bed and have a wet Fluffy Dog hop up next to me. (The sneaky rascal waits until I am nearly asleep, then creeps up carefully.)
I’m not complaining about the heat. Yes, I worry about the dogs, especially my old black brindly girl, But 30-feels-like 40-above is infinitely better than 30-feels-like-40-below. And I know that’s coming far too soon! Some sweet-smelling rain and the slow perking up of poppies and peonies, tomatoes and tarragon, nasturtiums and sweet peas and geraniums… That’s a delightful yard to come back into, with damp happy dogs on a summer evening.