Rain, rain, GO AWAY!

I know I’ve said it before, but I RREEAALLLLYY am sick of the rain. When Mom opened the front door for our run this morning and we saw the flood buckets pouring down, both me and my sister looked at her like, ‘You can’t be serious.’
“I have a treadmill in the garage and a gym membership, I’m doing this for you guys,” she said.
“Oh, well in that case, thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Sanctimonious boor,” I didn’t say.

As we started running down the street, the rain was getting in our eyes and our paws and gorgeous lustrous coats were getting all wet. “This blows,” my sister whispered to me.
“Yeah, let’s go home,” I said. And we tried to turn around.
“Come on, you guys! Harden up,” mom groaned.
For over 5 miles, Mom dragged us in the rain, while we tried over and over to make it stop.
“I’m going to get underfoot and then stop short to shake off. Maybe she’ll trip, crack her head on the sidewalk and die, and we can go home,” Bodie said, and did it. Mom did not die.
“I’m just going to run behind her and around the other side so that my leash will hook the back of her knees, and maybe she’ll fall down and break her neck and die and we can go home,” I tried. She grumped at me and kept going.

Once we turned around to run the 2.5 miles back, we had to try a different strategy. “What if we just hang out back here and refuse to move? Do you think someone would take pity on us and pick us up in a warm, dry car?” I suggested.
“I think I’m going to jump in front of this truck and end it all,” my sister wailed.
And every time we tried something, you’ve never heard anyone whinge like Mom was whinging.

When we finally got home, 839 hours later, my sister couldn’t wait for Mom to take the leash and harness off to try to dry off. She ran around the living room shaking and rubbing against every slightly absorbent surface. Meanwhile I moped in place, too depressed to even shake down. After toweling off, my sister was still franticly rubbing against all the furniture, so Mom took us to the people bathroom, where nothing good ever happens. We’re no fools, and she had to drag us in by our collars. Once inside, my sister started trembling and I went catatonic. But then a miracle happened! Mom showered without us!!!

Mom said the couches already smell bad enough like dog, they didn’t need to smell like WET dog. Now whose fault is it that this house is full of wet dogs, huh?!

-Sponge Bo-scar Stinky Pants

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