Yesterday, it was raining across South Florida. For most of the day. Which isn’t so bad when you can curl up inside and read a good book or watch a fun movie. But when you have a dog who needs a walked, it’s not that awesome.
For the first of Akela’s two rainy walks, I called her to the door, leashed her up, and we proceded to the garage, where I put on my rain gear: rubber boots, giant poncho with hood, and baseball cap to keep the rain out of my eyes. And then we walked and did all the usual peeing/sniffing/etc stuff.
For the second walk, I decided it was too big of a hassle to put on my rain gear and hang on the leash at the same time, so I put everything on beforehand and then called her to the door to be leashed.
And you know what? Akela was sorta scared and reluctant to come close. It was still me, with my same smell and same voice, but in rain gear. She did eventually come to me after a timid pause, but it surprised me that she thought I was some foreign creature for a bit.
Which is one reason of, like, a zillion, why I’m looking forward to reading this book:
I’m not sure if it’ll answer all my questions, but maybe I’ll have a new understanding of what it’s like to be furry with four paws, an obsession with squirrels, and a killer sense of smell.
And, if this NY Times article is to be believed, our canine companions may be sort of geniuses.
I’m not sure about Akela, though. Hers is a more subtle genius. Even though she does know sit/stay/come/catch/hi five/etc, her best achievements are in the arts of napping, shedding, and having a seemingly bottomless pit for a stomach.