Well, it's been raining here a lot lately. That makes it pretty hard to get out and do a lot with the girls. Most of our forays outside have been quick dashes to the turn out pen. Sadly, that's not terribly exciting to write about. It did remind me of another rainy season and an experience we had with our first greyhound, Treat.
To say that Treat was a diva would be an understatement akin to saying that Mount Everest is a hill. She brought being a diva to an artform heretofore unrivaled in dogdom. I could give a long list of all the ways that she was spoiled, but I'll spare you that. There were a lot of things that Treat loved -- Strawberry Cheesequake Blizzards, going anywhere in the car, running on the beach, taking long walks and being treated like a princess were all on her list.
However, there was one thing that she definitely did NOT like and that was rain. She would get in wading pools, lakes, oceans and any other body but she did not like taking baths or getting rained on. She hated it so much that I bought her a raincoat to try to help her to hate it less, but it didn't make things much better for her.
One October we had an unusual amount of rain. It was the sort of deluge that made people consider building arks. The rain just didn't let up. Treat had one way of dealing with the rain. She went out into the turn out pen, scrunched her eyes closed and stood like a statue. She refused to go to the bathroom when it was raining. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem if she skipped a turn out. She might just ask to go out a little earlier the next time.
The rain started on Tuesday and she refused to go. I could actually see the wheels turning in that little needlenose head of hers. The people have a place to go in the house. The cats have a place to go in the house. Why should I the superior life-force, be expected to go outside in the rain? I will not stand for this outrage! I am a princesse!
The week went on, and Treat refused to go. Her protest against the forces of nature were worrying us, but no amount of waiting her out would convince her to go. Finally, on Friday, Mr. Taleteller and I decided to go out to a movie. We took Treat, Hawk and our current foster dog out to the dog pens and gave them time to do their business. I should have seen the gleam in her eye when they came back in, but I guess I was thinking about our night out.
When we got home from the movie, a much happier Treat came prancing up the basement stairs. I was in shock at just that alone. We'd taught both of them to do the stairs because we often have to retreat down there for storms, but neither of them had shown any interest in being down there. We kept the cat food and litter box down there because the dogs never had an interest in going down those steps.
However, that night, Treat decided to venture down the stairs. She decided that since things weren't to her standards outside that she would use the cat facilities. It was a grand plan, except that after holding it for several days, she peed enough to completely flood the litter box. I can't even relate to you the looks of disgust and horror that were on the cats' faces as they saw how their box had been contaminated by dog urine. I wish I'd had a camera for the whole scene. It's one of my big regrets. I couldn't even be mad at her! It was on a concrete floor, not upstairs on the carpet. It was a much easier clean up down there.
I can still see the look on her face in my mind, too. She was so very pleased with herself that she'd solved the whole problem. I can only say that I'm thankful that we kept a baby gate up so that she couldn't go into our bathroom. Of course, the rain let up on Saturday, too. Some dogs really are too smart for their people's own good!