My plants are happy.  We’ve had rain, rain, and more rain.  The dogs aren’t happy they don’t like wet.  I’m not happy because I’m typing this up in between thunderstorms—not my favorite weather. 

     We did need the rain, if only so I didn’t have to water the gardens.  It was beginning to look as though I might before the rain began last night, and has continued throughout the day and into the night again.

     I took the pups out for their last chance for the night out a few minutes ago.  Patty went out first, she hates rain, and she thinks she’ll melt in the stuff.  She cringed out the door, her tail tucked under, and clamped so tightly against her belly, I wondered if she’d actually untuck it long enough to pee.

     Then Gavin had his turn although he’s not as theatrical as Patty he does show some disdain for the rain.  Rather than dawdle he was done quickly and back in the door like a shot. 

     Earlier in the week, I’d thought about penciling in cleaning the kitchen floor on Thursday—not going to happen with the pups tracking in.  I’ll wait until the mud is gone.