Tales of Ella the Circus Dog
2006-04-04 10:53 PM
Wet.
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It has been raining for days. The Garden People could not cut the grass last week, it was so wet. Who wants to go out in this? Not me. Give me a corner of the sofa where I can curl into a full deer tuck and dream that I am Bambi. Sometimes I think I hear the rain stop. I go to the back door and look out the flap. Rain. I cannot go out in this. I hate wet feet. The grass is so long it tickles when I squat.
Poodle makes me sick. She goes out all the time, even when it rains. Labrador is too old to care about the rain. They both make me look bad. This morning, I tried very hard. I stood in front of the open flap and watched Poodle go through the grass and then look off into the distance as she did her duty. Labrador, too, seemed focused on her task and not the rain beating down on her head. But not me. I stared out at all that water and I could feel my whole body shaking, like I had eaten Mexican jumping beans. Not that I know about them firsthand, but when I was in Dog Jail, Chihuahua Apple Head one cell over told me what jumping beans do when little dogs mistake them for raisins. I couldn’t make myself go through that door.
The People don’t know how good they have it, with nobody expecting them to go out and pee in the rain.
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