We didn’t mean to walk in the rain. We’d hoped to get it in before the skies opened up, but our timing proved wrong. Amor fati. We accepted our fate and carried on.
The drizzle soon turned to a shower, and then a downpour. She shook off the water accumulating on her coat and looked back at me, as if to say, “Have we had enough yet?” “Not quite yet”, I replied. Attempt after attempt to lap up muddy puddle water were repelled. Rebellious crossing back and forth, left to right were corrected. She likes to find her boundaries, and I reliably inform her of what we can and cannot do. I’m no pushover, but also no Drill Sargent. She has an acceptable margin of error for puppy curiosity.
By the time we turned back the rain had slowed to a drizzle, fooling me into believing that it was done. No such luck: it began to pour again, even heavier than before. We ducked under the tree canopy lining the side of the gravel road for cover. She turned to look at me, thinking me crazy perhaps. “It’s only water”, I reminded her again. Or was I reminding myself? I thought of those days rowing in weather like this, accumulating water sloshing around in the bottom of the hull, water that would pour over our heads when we lifted the rowing shell overhead after practice. What was it Odysseus said? “Be still, my heart; thou hast known worse than this.“
The thing is, a puppy’s first walk in the rain is a thing to behold. We could dwell on our discomforts in the moment, or let them roll off our skin in favor of savoring the experience. Each walk is a new experience for a puppy, and their discovery is ours too. Had it been raining before we had started our walk we might never gone out. So perhaps it was a soggy blessing in disguise; a chance to see the world from a different perspective. Toweling off the excess water when we returned home, I reminded the puppy that she too was a soggy blessing.