Doggy Blog

Dogwalking 101: WHAT THE HAIL

Yesterday started out like any other day. Made breakfast, checked emails, did some work, made some coffee, got my schedule together, headed out the door. Notably missing from that is "check the forecast." This is a trend that goes back to my youth: walking out the door unprepared in whatever clothes were clean at the exact moment I needed them. It has not served me tremendously well throughout the years and I have a history of showing up to school/work/graduation wet with rainwater/shivering/sweating/clothes torn from a tornado. These days I typically have an umbrella tucked into my backpack at all times BUT because I just moved apartments it is still packed away in a box somewhere. So again, I bounded out of the door unprepared, hopped on my bicycle and shot down Ashland ready to begin another day.


 Foreshadowing (forepuddling)

Foreshadowing (forepuddling)


First few walks are grand! Sunny. Hot. Maybe a few clouds in the far distance but we should be alllll good. What's that? Wind startin' up? Oh well, nothing to worry about, everyone knows dogs LOVE wind. Hmm. That wind is blowing those scattered clouds closer to me. And where they were now sits a big coaldark mass, angrily glaring at me. Cackling at my umbrellaless, jacketless existence. Daring me to continue to remain outside. A few drops of water hit my forearm. I look up. I ascribe this water to a leaky air conditioning unit despite not seeing one. My pace quickens. I bike halfway to my next house and it begins raining. No denying it now. I seek refuge under a large tree. This is fine. As long as that wind doesn't come back, I should be able to stay under here until this wee summer storm passes us by. Wind picks up. Rain intensifies. Tree cover no longer keeping me totally dry. Angry stormgod cloud laughs at my mortal frailty. Rain is coming down in diagonal sheets. At least it's a warm summer rain. What's that sound? Sounds like ball bearings are hitting the hoods of cars or something. HAIL?! It's August! Time to make a break for it. I scoot out from under the tree and head for the nearest alcove. Make it there in about 5 seconds. My back is soaked. My hat is soaked. My backpack is soaked. My spirit is dry. I survive. The rain passes after about 15 minutes. I air dry. I move on with my day.

I got caught in TWO MORE STORMS LIKE THAT YESTERDAY. I won't bore you with the details, as they were EXACTLY THE SAME experiences. The second storm broke my spirit. Getting wet and then drying off and then getting wet again is a fate worse than death. I laughed at the third storm and raised my hands to the heavens like Andy Dufresne in the Shawshank Redemption.

I will say that no dogs actually got wet in the making of this Thursday afternoon. Every time I got caught in the wet, I was either heading to or heading from a pup. This is good, because a wet dog requires quite a bit of extra maintenance. Their feet are like chamois leather (which I just found out is made of a porous leather from the skin of a European goat) that absorb massive quantities of water and never quiiiiite get dry. Combine that with some wet dirt, or "mud" if you've graduated college, and you got a real mess brewin'. Luckily, we at Home Treat Home are old hands at the post-rain cleanup game so you all have nothing to worry about! Here's to a dry Friday! Although it is 58 degrees apparently so maybe I should change out of this tanktop and rugby short combo. Nah.

Sean