With all this talk about Hurricane Sandy let’s not ignore the littlest victims.
Tuesday morning I knew we were going to have a problem.Â I came home from the gym and was face to face with happy wiggly doggy.
Freckles – It’s dog park day.
Me – It’s raining.
It isn’t raining at the dog park.
It is raining all over the eastern part of the continent so I’m pretty sure it is raining at the dog park.
It never rains at the dog park.Â
No, you just never go if it is rainy.Â There is another problem.Â You know the big pond in the middle of the dog park?
Yay!! Go to the dog park and play in the water!
No, it has been raining hard for three days.Â The park has probably flooded.Â
Yay!! More water in the dog park! Let’s go!
It’s dog park day.
When that argument wasn’t working for her she pulled out the big guns.Â She would crawl up on my lap and give me the spaniel eyes.Â
Once she realized that I was settling in for a long day of sewing she went harrumphing off to pout on the couch.Â Her only hope of getting happier was remembering that her daddy brings her home prime rib on dog park days.
Daddy came home with salad instead.
Freckles will be taking applications for new humans in the comments.