Meet The Lesbian Housewyfe’s Dog, Mack The Rain Hater
Mack, our short and stocky blue heeler/chihuahua mix (an odd combination and unreasonably adorable!), sits expectantly at our main door. His brown eyes catch mine and his gaze darts meaningfully to the portal and back to me.
Raindrops ping against the metal of the chimney.
As I turn to him, he prances in anticipation. “No. I won’t do it, you silly dog! I’ll open the door, and you’ll just turn around!”
“No,” his eyes plead. “No, I’ll go outside. I really have to go potty.”
I give in and walk to the door. He eagerly follows me, inserting his nose into the crack of the door before I even have a chance to touch the knob.
“Remember. You asked me to do this.”
The door opens. Rain bounces off the deck, puddling and pooling around the various plants. The cool air whisks in, and I shiver. “Go on then. Go potty.”
Mack looks up at me. “No way!” He backs up, maintaining eye contact, nervous at my reaction but unwilling to step onto the soggy deck.
“Come on, Mack! I know you need to go potty. It’s not that bad.” I walk out into the sprinkles and wince at the chilly breeze. “It’s hardly raining at all!”
“Mmmmph,” he groans. “That was before I knew.” Before I’m back in the house, he’s on the couch, cuddled into a ball on a warm wool afghan.
“You wanted to go outside! You asked me!”
Snore.
We’ve never had a dog who was as leery of moisture as this little fellow.
Now, I can’t say that I blame him. I’m the one who refuses to go camping, who rejected a day at a lake on a boat for one of those team-building exercises at work, who won’t step into the pool at a hotel. Walking the dog in the rain is low, low, low on my own list of Want-To-Do’s. In fact, if it wasn’t that walking him was the only way to dependably get him out into the world to potty on days of downpours, I would be sending him out alone into the lawn to relieve himself.
But no, he won’t do that. Neither rain nor sleet nor snow nor any sort of precipitation will touch our Mack if he had any say in the matter. He’s sincerely a fair-weather dog, loving being outside and warming his body in the warm North Carolina sunshine.
Mack is like me, happiest snuggling on the couch in front of the fireplace or any convenient space heater. I bet if he had hands, he’d join me, knitting a doggie sweater as I worked on my latest shawl while watching television each evening.
Plus, the little sucker has a bladder of STEEL! While refraining from peeing all night is a requirement for dogs, he regularly waits from 8 p.m. until 9 a.m. before requesting the door open for his relief.
Or, as in the case of this morning, declining the call of nature and snuzzling in for a few more hours until the rain stops.
That can’t be good for him, but he’s never had an accident in the house.
Resolve fills me as I pull on my rain boots and tromp into the utility room to retrieve my purple, mackintosh-style raincoat. Mack perks up and his head swivels. When I pluck his leash from the coat rack, it’s like the rain never existed. He leaps and twirls, lifting his little Kermit legs into the air. I get him to sit so I can put the leash on and he trembles with the excitement.
When I open the door, he rushes outside and shoots me a look of betrayal as the drops hit his head. A handy umbrella snatched from beside the door protects both of us.
On these rainy days, our walk pivots home after he poops. Today, the trek takes us just a few hundred feet before he finds a good spot. Back inside within 15 minutes, he runs to my wife. “Who’s a good Mack-Mack? Was it wet out there? Did you do your business?”
His butt attaches itself to the carpet in a perfect sit, tail wagging as much as is possible in that position. “What a good brave boy! Would you like a boney-moroney?” The dog biscuit disappears from her hand and he retires to his special “treat” place on the den carpet to munch.
With soggy boots, coat, and umbrella left by the door, I pop the tea kettle onto the stove for my treat, a warming cup of herbal tea.
As I sip my tea on the sofa, Mack burrows into my side and sleeps the easy rest of one who has successfully answered the call of nature.
“How did we manage to find a dog that hates the rain so much?”
Image courtesy of LA Bourgeois
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