All the leaves are brown. And the sky is grey. I've been for a walk...well, not really. I got up and took the dog out for a pee at 7 am and I had to stand out there for 5 minutes before she would go onto the wet grass. Shoeless, braless and with a mop of bed-head, I stood there arguing with the little blonde doggie who kept giving me the eyes.
"I don't have to go. Really," she said. "Let's go back into the house."
"Nuh-uh," I replied, "I know you have to go." It's like watching a three-year-old do the I-gotta-pee dance but they insist they don't have to go. "Go do your pee!" I pointed to the grass. She walked back to the door. I picked her up and put her on the grass. "Go pee!"
"Too wet!" She whined, as she skittered back to the cement.
"Cinnamon. Get out there and do your pee." She sat down, refusing. I picked her up and put her on the rocks, which are less wet. She has short Shih-Tzu/Yorkie legs so I understand not wanting wet grass tickling her tummy. She ran back to the front door. I sat on the bench and sighed. "I'm going to sit out here until you go." She called my bluff and sat on my foot.
The wind picked up and I shivered. Should I go in and get a sweater and shoes? No, the dog will follow me. "Okay, that's it. You're going pee." I scooped her up and dumped her back on the lawn. She ran up the incline and squatted. Yes! A few seconds after peeing she took a huge crap, then bounced back to me, ears flapping.
"You would have done that in the house, wouldn't you?" She looked up at me and wagged her tail. "Yeah, I know." I opened the door and she scampered up the stairs. "Damn dog," I chuckled affectionately.