The Kabuki Theatre of Small Dogs on a Rainy Day

Kevin is not amused. 

I wanted to capture it with the camera, but it was not to be.   Two of the players were not in a mood to be photographed.

We have had almost a solid week of rain.  Morning rains, afternoon storms, evening storms and over night drizzles.  We have had peeks of sun.  Full gutters.  Flooded streets.

In Frederick County, to our west, there have been floods of biblical proportions that have taken out roads and bridges.

Here in Baltimore, we go out to our cars each day and find that torrents of water have flushed down the block crumbling pebbles and small stones from the rotten pavement on the street at the end of our block one day, and the next, the pebbles and stones have bee washed down to the catch basins at the ends of the the street.

And because we are at the low end of a two plan axis of terrain, the water flows through our yard like a raceway on its way to the street.

All this water, of course, poses another issue.

Our dogs hate being in the rain.

Can we blame them? 

Yes, they are animals, but humans can be animal like.  And I don't know a single person who would enjoy being told "Go out there and do your business," while the other human who opened the door and gave the order sips on a cup of Nespresso and waits to let you back in.

We have trained the dogs to go outside on their walks or in the back yard.  Normally, on sunny days the bolt out of the back door with the energy of a thoroughbred horse at Pimlico.  But when it rains, the barometer drops and the small dogs become sluggish and tentative when the back door is opened.

This is when the Kabuki Theatre of Small Dogs on a Rainy Day takes place.

In this production, they are the protagonists, and I, the gate keeper, the antagonist.

In our first act, one of two things happen.

In the first plot development storyline, one of the said dogs will come to me while I sit at my desk working, and work to get my attention from the computer screen to them.  I, ask "What does my (INSERT DOG NAME HERE, which is Either Rocky, or Kevin) need?  Do you need to go out?"

Or inn the second possible scenario, they have heard a sound and want to explore it.  This is indicated by yapping.  Lots and lots of yapping.

The dog (or dogs) will cock their head (Rocky) or start spinning in tight circles (Kevin) indicating that in fact, their needs have been heard, and in the affirmative they want to go out.   We go downstairs.

Act II

Our staging is the back door.  As the curtain rises, we see me at the back door and the dogs at my feet. I open the door.  And we see it is  raining. 

Me: "You guys aren't going to like this."

Rocky: I shall begin jumping to demonstrate my excitement.  I will will begin the jumping to demonstrate his excitement.

Kevin: I will languidly stretch.  My energy level has gone from energetic to lethargic.

I open the door.  Rocky, at high speed bolts from the door and travels about ten feet, and stops, dead in his tracks.

Kevin walks to the threshold and sniffs.   

Kevin:  "I see no need to follow the foolish one outside.   Here I shall plant my feet, here.  Two inside, two out.  I shall make my body heavy. You cannot close the storm door for I am here. Moving me will become a task.  I am a load of lead."

Rocky: "It is wet out here.  Let me survey what I can see. "

Kevin: "He has not found a squirrel, I am going inside."

Rocky: "This is not worth it," he turns and comes back inside.

Act III 

I have closed and lock the door.  I return to the kitchen.  The dogs have not gone out for it is wet.  Yet they expect a cookie.

In unison, they say: "Human who controls the door and the food; we demand tribute.  For it was you who said the word "OUT" and we have complied. Now favor us with a biscuit, but we prefer something chewy and liver like."

Me: "But you have done nothing to receive a merit based reward.  And I told you it was raining."

Dogs: "We understand this, but it is you who demanded our compliance with your outdoor toilet practice.  It is not our fault it is raining.  Feed us treats, or one of us will urinate on the Persian silk rug.  One of us may hop upon your bed and use or claws to make a nest, thus ruining the new blanket."

Me: "True.  And more often than naught, you do go out and perform your toilet."

I remove two Milk Bone biscuits from the box.  Rocky, the Elder, gets first choice, left or right hand.  Never mind they are both the same.  It is his right to choose.

Kevin: Biscuit?  This is not my first choice.  I will not take it in the kitchen, you must follow me, human, to a room far removed from the the dog you call Rocky.

I follow Kevin, first to the dining room, where he pretends to take the cookie, then toddles off to the entry hall, passing Rocky who is gnawing at the rock hard biscuit, then the living room and finally the sun room.  It is here that Kevin decides taking the cookie is acceptable.  Once in his jaws, he retraces his steps to a place to where the other dog is finishing his cookie.  Kevin plops down, right next to his alpha dog and begins to grind his teeth into the tasteless biscuit.  As if to say "Now it is my turn.  Watch and learn."

And thus, we find that no progress has been made, only customs have been followed.  And in this, our drama is done.

FIN

Normally, the Kabuki Theatre Small Dogs on a Rainy Day, plays about four performances if the entire day is rainy.  The outcome is always the same.

Now if you say W-A-L-K, and it is pouring, they are all in.  No drama.  They are more than willing to get wet.

Why? Because that means you too, the Human holding the leash is getting wet, and they are only too happy to see you in your misery.  This, we call the Kabuki Theatre of Walking the Dogs on a Rainy Day. 

And it is always played at an outdoor venue.