Mini won’t go out in the rain. Before making her decision to go outside, she looks out the living room window and sniffs at the bottom of the back door. If the weather doesn’t meet her approval, back to the couch she goes. And there’s no nudging her.
So Irene’s here and it’s raining like hell. She went out last night about nine o-clock (her last trip out is always right after the Short Kid goes to bed) and now…let’s just say I think her bladder’s record is about 3pm, which is more about her being so crazy-stubborn than the size of her bladder. It’s supposed to still be raining when we go to bed tonight, so who will win? Irene or Mini’s bladder?
For now, she’s just giving me the sad, accusatory look, as though I personally invited Irene for a visit.
Poor Mini. Hope Irene moves away fast so she can make it outside.
Hahahahaha! Ooops, sorry, Mini. I don’t mean to make light of your, erm, dilemma.
On a serious note, pets are so great. If you allow them, they end up with great big personalities that make you laugh, sometimes cry, and sometimes frustrate the heck out of you. (Hmmm, sounds like every family member I’ve ever had.)
(Oh, Shannon, tell your SK I have a signed tank shirt from Mario Andretti. Thought I’d lost it, but no. It’s signed to me, but I would gladly give it to him if he wanted it.)