As anyone who has ever had a dog knows, it takes a while to find “the right spot.” You know, for number one or number two. And you also now that the worse the weather is, the longer it will take to find that perfect spot.
Like this past Wednesday, when hurricane Dorian was a mere eighty miles off the coast. The bands of wind and rain started early in the morning and came in rapid succession. Just before sunrise, there was a lull in the action and I thought, “This is perfect.” I got up, fed the dog, and we headed out on our usual morning walk.
As we left the garage, I reminded Samson, our Florida brown dog who absolutely, positively does not like the rain, “The sooner you finish up, the sooner we’ll be back inside.” The street was deserted, the swales weren’t too full, I saw countless places where he could take care of business. On this morning, though, nothing nearby would do. Nope, we have to walk about two hundred yards to find today’s “right spot.”
The wind is kicking up, the trees are waving in the gusts of wind, branches and pine needles are raining down on us, and a few drops of rain began to fall. We kept walking. And sniffing. And walking. And sniffing. I knew our window of opportunity would soon close.
Finally, we found the right spot, a quarter-mile from the house. I thought it looked like so many others we passed. But what do I know (or smell). We made it back home unscathed.
This morning, two days since the storm, the sky was clear. The air was still. Naturally, “the right spot” was just across the street, a one minute walk from the house. Go figure.