Well, at least that is the most important question for Roscoe. Roscoe is extremely delicate, he prefers not to get his paws damp. He also thinks that Nancy and I cause the rain as some kind of punishment for him. Often, he'll look up at us as if to say, what did I do to deserve all this rain? How can you hate me that much?
So, it has been 28 days of that.
Usually, Roscoe is very responsive if I ask him if he wants to go out for a walk. Not so anymore. Here is a picture of Roscoe after I approached him with his leash and said the word "walk".
Note the Clint Eastwood squint that says, I'll be having none of that. In fact, I would rather have my bladder explode than to step outside. Good day, sir! I said, good day!
Then, after I get his coat on. (Yes, the coat is cutesy, but it's better than him laying around water soaked all day and miserable. A towel can only do so much.) He wants to delay it as much as possible, so he asks for a drink before we go out.
Outside our door, he sees a cart and begs for a ride. I think his dream is that I would push him around outside in the cart and he could avoid touching the wet ground altogether. I pick him up and let him ride down to the garage. He doesn't want to get out.
Outside, he runs from bush to bush. Hiding underneath until I force him to go on to the next. Nancy and I have a word to describe the correct amount of time for a walk. The walk must be long enough to give him a "poop-ortunity". In other words, he must have enough time to do his business. Which, no matter how miserable it is outside, he refuses to do it immediately. He must be given a poop-ortunity.
After this horrible and exhausting trauma, he has to return immediately to his red velvet chair and go back to sleep.
So, in conclusion, in addition to the floods and water damage that the rest of Seattle is dealing with, it should, more importantly, stop raining for Roscoe's sake. No more damp paws. Thank you.