May 2nd, 2018
Two weeks ago, I was wondering where spring was. Mother Nature must have heard me and sent an answer. Not quite the one that I was expecting. I was thinking about the positive signs that spring had finally arrived in our part of Northern Canada. Things like warmer temperatures, blue skies and evidence of life such as the return of birds from wintering in the south and plants starting to peak through the soil. What I got was a cruel joke! A rainy downpour greeted Bailey and I as we exited the garage last Wednesday. I had already peeked out the windows at 5:30 am and realized that snow wear was not going to do. I rooted through the hall closet in search of the rain gear that had not been worn since last October. The task was made more difficult when I realized that my splash pants were buried at the bottom of a container. The container had other ones stacked on it and all of them were stored on the top shelf of the closet. I tried my best not to wake the household as I carefully removed each heavy container. Where was the muscle when you needed it? I removed the insulated insert from my waterproof jacket as it was no longer required for plus temperatures. I exchanged the snow boots with waterproof hikers but, decided to keep the winter gloves on. After months of multiply layers, I felt almost naked. I was ready.
It was time to get my girl and head outside. Bailey took notice of my new attire. She sniffed my rain pants – leaving a trail of goo on them. I wasn’t bothered as the rain would soon be streaming down the pant legs to wash all of her drool marks away. Once the door was open, Bailey stood there, looking out in disbelief at the sudden disappearance of snow. Brown grass was visible as the snow bank in the front yard had shrunk back. I nudged her forward into the pouring rain. It was not a warm rain. I was soon chilled to the bone and wishing for that extra layer of insulation. The rain clung to Bailey’s fur which soaked it up like a giant sponge. She had gone through several puddles on our early morning business excursion. We returned home in desperate need of towels. I simply climbed out of my dripping outerwear and was ready to hunt down another cup of coffee. Bailey was another story. She received her first towel dry in the garage followed by a second one in the entry area. I had long ago given up using regular towels. The extra large bath sheet that seemed adequate last year was now looking a bit small for the job. Despite my efforts, Bailey was still quite wet. She would have to spend some time drying out at the front door. Soon her wet dog smell had permeated the main living area. As each family member came out of their bedrooms, they were greeted with the scent. It drew them to her. Wet dog or not, Bailey still got her rubs. Spring rains are here to stay and they linger in the fur of our “water” dog.