God must be bored today...

You would think on a Sunday like today that God would be busy. I always imagine him in his long flowing gown, hair pulled back out of his face and a sweet pair of jogging shoes. He's running to and fro, listening to prayers, forgiving people, performing miracles, birthing babies, saving puppies, conjuring up storms... you know, typical God stuff. His secretary would be taking his calls, writing memos, taking messages, sending out the angels. The phone's ringing, the fax is going off, the doorbell's buzzin and the computer continually calls out "you've got mail" I always imagine their conversation to go a little like this...

"Lord, it's Kenny Watson on the line again asking about his roller blades. His birthday's in two days you know, you can't keep putting him off."

"Not now Rose! I'm delivering triplets in Shanghi, I've got one heck of a hurricane brewing in Mexico, there's some turkey shootout in Alabama that apparently the whole state is praying to win. It's a big prize this year Rose, a $25 gift certificate to Denny's is on the line. Just take another message please!"

That's what I picture God to be doing on a Sunday until today. Today he's a little bored and taking it out on me!

I woke up this morning to a dreadful view outside. It's yet another cloudy, rain filled day in the Netherlands. It's something I've gotten used to, no biggie.

So I thought I'd jump in the shower, get all nice and clean and take the dog for a walk afterwards. Our morning walks are always the best. It's good to get out and stretch both of our legs, he gets to play with his friends and I get in a quick 5000 steps. It looked like rain, but if I didn't take the dog outside every time it looked like it might rain, that poor little guy would never leave the house.

Well I get out of the shower and sure enough, it's pouring outside. Not just a sprinkle but an outright pour. I looked at the dog, he looked at me. Yeah he could hold it a little while longer.

An hour later, he still hadn't gone out and it was going on 11 hours since he'd been out last. Scooter's a good puppy with a great big bladder and I was so very thankful for that this morning. It looked like there was a break in the rain so I put on my jacket, grabbed his leash and hauled him downstairs. (We live on the 3rd floor and his little Corgi legs are too short to walk down the steps himself).
We got to the end of the block and the rain started coming down just a wee bit harder. No big deal, we'll just make it a short walk, I thought.

So we get about 3 more blocks down, he hasn't done his 'real business' yet and it's starting to pour. I urge him on "come on Scooter, go potty Buddy."

Apparently he doesn't care for cheerleaders. He wasn't in any rush to do anything. That is until the thunder boomed. Scooter's not a big fan of thunder, or lightening, or airplanes, or car horns, or bike bells or really anything that makes noise. He's a bit of a chicken.

So the thunder claps and he takes off running with his tail between his legs. I, being a good mother, followed him yelling "it's ok buddy, it's ok!" He finally stopped sprinting about a block up the road and went into a quick walk. At this point the rain is really coming down hard.

So we go one block over and start back toward home when yet another clap of thunder scared the bujeesus out of him. Now we're running again, through the puddles, through the grass and finally stopping under an apartment complex out of the rain. We stood there for about 5 minutes until I looked down and saw his little legs were just shaking. He was so scared. Again, being the good mother I was, I said Ok lets go and we ran all the way home through the pouring rain.

I picked up his little wet body and carried him upstairs. I dried him off with a towel and then myself. He never did do any "big business" while we were out and that really bothers me.

So I waited another hour or so. There was a break in the rain. I put on new clothes (the other clothes were soaked and in the washer), grabbed the dog and out we went. This time we only made it to the end of the drive way when the thunder clapped, the rain poured down and he looked at me like "Holy crap take me back in!" He sprinted back up the driveway, back to the apartment and actually ran up the stairs on his own.

Once again, I dried the dog, I threw my clothes in the washer and waited. Two hours passed and I was getting anxious. He always does his business in the mornings. It was getting to be late afternoon, he just ate a bowl of food and surely he had to have a rumbly in his tummy by now.

I looked outside and there is was...the sun! It was actually sunny! I stuck my hand out the window to make sure and sure enough! It was dry! So I threw on my third pair of clothes for the day, grabbed the dog and we made our way outside.

We made it a full 5 blocks this time before the sun disappeared and it started sprinkling again. SHIT! We cut across a neighboring lawn and headed back towards home. This is where Scooter decided he liked it outside and he didn't want to go home.

I turned to look at him and there he was, laying on his back, feet in the air, like he was dead.

He does this to me all the time. It usually happens when we're finishing up his walk and he doesn't feel like going home yet or when we see another dog and he wants to stop and play.

First he lays down and won't budge.
"Scooter come." I say happily.
Blank stare from the dog.
"Scooter, come!" not quite as happy and accompanied by a yank on the leash.
Blank stare ahead, then he slowly turns his head to the side to make sure I know he's ignoring me.
"Scooter, mommy said come!" I step towards him.
He rolls to his side like he's just absolutely exhausted.
"Scooter get up!"
This pushes him to the end of his game.
He finishes his dramatic roll onto his back with his feet in the air "playing dead".

I've had cars actually stop and ask me if he was ok because he really does look like he is dead. "Yeah he's fine, just a spoiled brat."

So here I am in the pouring rain with my "dead dog" laying in a puddle (because he wasn't wet enough with just the rain). So I go over to him, put him on his feet and say "let's go!"

I take a step toward the house, look at the dog and again, he's on his back in full dead position.

"Scooter, mommy said get up! It's raining, now get up!"

I place the dog on his feet once again and before I am upright he's back on his back. It's now officially pouring.

Six times we played dead in the rain. Apparently it was fun for him. I wanted to kick his arse. I was tempted to just pick him up and carry him home but he was a soaking wet, dirty dog and I had on my 3rd clean shirt of the day.

I actually said, outloud to the dog "you are not the boss!" as I picked him up and placed him on his feet for the last time.

He finally decided to walk again and we made it to shelter during the real down pour, only a block away from the house.

Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The rain finally stopped. I walked him over to the grassy area and he did "big business". Thank God, we could finally go home. Once again I carried him upstairs, dried him off and changed my clothes.

So that's how I spent my morning and afternoon today.

It's like playing dodgeball in gymclass. Only in this class God is the big kid and has buckets of water to pelt you with instead of a big ruber ball. God always wins at dodgeball.

It's now sunny an absolutely dry outside. I don't dare put my clothes on and take the dog out.