Rain And Christmas Cookies

Dear Goddamned Dog,

We have to talk about rain. And Christmas cookies, but rain first.

For almost 12 years now we’ve discussed this. I do not control the sky, and shooting me baleful looks really isn’t necessary when it’s pouring out for me to understand your displeasure. And it’s quite impressive how long you can hold your bladder, I’ll give you that.

But when things are just wet it should be a different story. It is NOT RAINING OUT. You can see this because I’m standing outside, holding the door for you, and I’m not wet. I’m not wearing any of the wet-stopping clothes you used to try to crawl under when you were younger. The birds and squirrels are all looking at you as you stop at the threshold unconvinced, like some Rain Truther, spending minutes looking for evidence of the hidden torrent you’re sure is just waiting for you to step outside. At this point they know you so well that they don’t even flee as you, the large predator, are not likely to chase them lest your feet get wet.

When you finally do make it all the way outside, relieving yourself and then rushing back to minimize your steps on the soggy ground, I am always out there with you to be sure the door to The Dry Place opens quickly. This is how I show my love.

The last several days, while I’ve been still outside picking up after you, you been frantically barking. Insistent. Urgent. Come quickly, Person, you are needed immediately! I admit to some concern the first time it happened, but I’ve come to learn what it means: there are Christmas cookies lying unattended on the mantle, or on the counter in the kitchen, or perhaps on a table somewhere.

The time it takes for me to wash my hands and find the source of your urgency is apparently way too long, and so you’ve taken to running back and forth between me and the neglected confections, eventually facing me head on to bark full volume, then “buff” more quietly once, and then walk away disgusted. This is how you show your love.

We will need to discuss this further over tea, Goddamned Dog. I’ll just have one of the crescent moon cookies while we’re talking, as I’m aware that the star-shaped ones are your favorite.

Love,

Your Person

 

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