The dog is going stir crazy.
Just the one dog: Toby loves his walks but not in the rain. He’s a Yorkshire Terrier and terriers believe in sniffing their way around a walk. You can’t sniff anything in a puddle so what’s the point in going? If it’s raining, he won’t go out and that’s that.
Unfortunately, it has done nothing but rain for a week. There were at least two days when we didn’t get out, and on other days we managed ten-minute walks in the hiatus between one lot of clouds moving on and the next lot of clouds rolling in, but it’s not enough for a Squirrel Chaser (First Class) such as Toby.
He’s driving me mad with his incessant nagging. I have to open the front door every time he starts, letting the rain soak the carpet because the wind is always blowing in this direction.
The problem is, dogs don’t think in the abstract; they live in the now as in:
I want a walk now, I want a walk now, I want a walk now! Good, she’s putting on my coat, my harness, my lead, her coat, her scarf, her gloves, her shoes, what’s that big stick that opens up? At last, I’m having my walk at last, at last – I’m not going out in that! It’s filthy and I can’t smell anything. Heels in; I like a good tug of war. Let her get wet if she likes; I’m not that daft.
And then we have to take off the coat, the harness, the lead, the coat, the scarf, the gloves, the shoes. I’m never sure which one of us is most disgruntled but I know who sulks the most.
Molly is a different kettle of dog:
It’s past September? No thanks; I’ll walk in April.
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The Laughing Housewife 
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