So as you may have seen in the news, or experienced directly, California is in the middle of a deluge. We've been hit by four major storms in a row since Monday, absolutely drenching the region and resulting in power outages, porches falling into the ocean, wet socks, all of it.
Even more miraculously, it resulted in meteorologists saying that our drought might be over. One of my pet peeves in the last three years is that every time there's been a big rainstorm, some meteorologist gets quoted saying, "Well, it doesn't really help." Of COURSE it helps. It's better to have some rain than no rain, right? Can't you just look on the bright side for once, Mr. Pessimism?
But I digress.
These incessant rains have also uncovered my dog for the faker he is. Since we got him exactly three years ago, Achilles stands somewhere in the house and whines at 6 am every day. He cannot possibly hold it ONE SECOND LONGER. Someone better get him out the front door and off the porch and onto some grass, pronto, or he's not going to be responsible for what happens to the living room rug. I'll raise this leg, I swear to God!!!
Cut to Monday when I opened the front door, bleary eyed, and Achilles and I saw a sheet of water pouring off the roof of the front porch. The dog raised his eyebrows, turned around, and slunk back inside. Not even putting him on a leash and holding an umbrella over his delicate frame while rain trickled down my bathrobe helped - he was not going to go, not in those conditions.
And he proceeded to not go until there was finally a break in the weather, 6 hours later. Apparently he is just a big drama queen about his morning ritual and I for one will no longer be fooled. I just need to install a hose on a timer over the front windows so at 6, he can look out, see the "rain," and put himself back to bed until a more reasonable hour.
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