Guerillera Alexandria here.
We had quite the storm yesterday. I, myself, rather enjoy the
occasional stroll through a downpour with gale-force winds,
accompanied by the steady cursing of my humom and the sounds of our roof shingles tearing off. That goofy redhead Rowan lies down for a pleasant snooze in the rain, snuggled up next to his dogloo, which he only frequents in 100 degree weather. However, when it comes to that young sprout, Ghost, or as he styles himself, The Magnificent Ghost, one is almost ashamed to be of the same breed. Yes, he is large and sturdy, full of masculine bravado, struts around with his chest thrust out and paws the dust like a bull. But let there be a few drops of rain, or, heaven forfend, a clap of thunder, and our macho male dashes whimpering into the house, into the nethermost reaches of his crate, where he curls himself up into the tiniest possible ball (no mean feat, considering his girth), and cries piteously until the last drop has fallen and the sun is out again. >sigh<. I really don't know where I have gone wrong.
Guerillera Alexandria, mentor of The Magnificent Melting Ghost, signing off
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