Drying Out

 "It's not raining, so I'm going to take Louise to the park for a run after I drop off Nora."  

This was the message I texted to Dave this morning.  Sometimes,  I check in with him early in the day to see what his work schedule looks like for the day.  And, sometimes, if I'm lucky, he has a long lunch, or a break in the morning, and can meet up with us for a run.  Today was not one of those days.  But, alas, that's not the point.  

The point is:  it wasn't raining when I sent this message.  At. All.  Thus, there was no excuse to stay inside and soak up the electricity. (Like we did yesterday). 

Well, those famous last words got the best of me!  For as soon as Nora was out of the van, the rain drops began to fall.  And they continued to fall all the way to the park.  And, much to Louise's dismay, all the way through our run.  

You see, Princess Louise does not enjoy the rain.  So, obviously, she doesn't enjoy mud puddles.  Especially mud puddles the size of Puget Sound.  Perhaps I should tell her that she lives in the Pacific Northwest; the capital of rain puddles, the home of Bumbershoot!  

Or, perhaps I should just do it; become one of those dog owners.  The ones who appropriately dress their dogs for the weather, often matching their own attire.  Maybe, then, she wouldn't mind the rain.  Maybe, then, I wouldn't have to leash her at 10:00 o'clock at night and DRAG her out the back door to go to the bathroom before bed.  

Oh, but I can't!  I can't, in good conscience, walk around with a coat-wearing dog. Not when she already has one of her own.  

Instead, I will make help her overcome this ridiculous fear.  I will prove to her, once and for all, that no harm will come to her from trotting through a mud puddle.  Thus, today's run began with a little Immersion Therapy.

Whenever we  approached a large (or small, or medium, for that matter) mud puddle I ignored the little voice that sounded a lot like my mother's, that was telling me to stay out of the puddle.  Instead, I aimed for it.  I kept my eyes on it.  I kept Louise's eyes on it.  More importantly, I kept a tight rein on her leash.  And as we got closer, I didn't waver.  I didn't detour.  I didn't follow her off the trail, over the log, through the brush, and around the puddle (to grandmother's house we go) like I had in the past.  I charged in, full speed!  I filled my shoes with rain water, mud, and those little tiny pebbles that would plague me for the rest of the run.   And I dragged Louise right along with me.  I soaked her white paws until they were completely brown-ish.  

And, then, I did it again.  

I'm not stating that Immersion Therapy is fun.  Nor would Louise.  But, sometimes, as parents, as dog owners, we have to be tough.  Because, sometimes, the puddles are simply too large to circumnavigate.  

I didn't make Louise run through every puddle.  But I definitely showed her that, when necessary, it's okay to do so.  By the time we were half-way through the park,  I think she had it figured out.  She still hopped the little ones, and launched over some that were bigger when she could; but if there was no way around, in she went.  

So between the rain and the immersion therapy we were soaked (to the bone!) by the time we got back to the van.  All we both wanted was to get in, get home, and get dry!  Thus, there was no slow, leisurely cool-down walk.  There was no stretching (much to my hamstring's dismay).  There was no petting, no playing.  We hopped in, shoes and paws dripping, and I drove home while Crazy Louise licked the rain, and sweat,  off of my face, my neck and my hands.  (Have I mentioned that she's quirky?)

Once home, I immediately turned on the fireplace, and peeled off those wet, brown, shoes and socks.  I, then, continued upstairs, where I traded the rest of my wet clothing for nice, warm, dry sweatpants, a t-shirt, a long sweater, and Dave's Vans cap. It was quite a good-looking outfit.  I thought about taking a photo of myself at that point, but I don't have the self-confidence for that.  

Instead, I ran back downstairs, prayed to the Keurig Gods to be good, to be quick, (which they were) and settled in front of the fire with my dog and a hot cup of coffee.  

And there I stayed, drying out, for a long while.  Looking at my phone's weather app.  And telling Louise what a good girl she is.

Drying Out