Yes, Mojo, They Call This Rain

I slept in today. This can mean only one thing: it’s raining. This is eventful on the Isle of Palms where rain seems to come as seldom as snow no matter how hard it may be raining inland. Something about the prevailing winds and ocean currents -- don’t ask. For only the second time in about four months I did not pop out of bed at 7 a.m. so that Mojo and I could get to the beach for our early morning romp. How strange to turn over. Mojo, to his undying credit, was similarly hypnotized by the rain as he slept in his usual fashion - on his back, legs wide and spread in the air in a pose that suggests nothing short of complete surrender to Morpheus. Getting up at 8:30, which normally almost feels like lunch time to me, I felt not only the moist air, but the chill too. This is not good news. I know it’s October, but in these parts there’s plenty of “summer” left and I am not done with that season just yet. When I had completed drying off all the rain that had come through the windows, I found myself reaching for long pants and socks -- each for the first time in five months. And, a fleece! So depressing.

Soon, however, I would learn that these new climatic conditions could teach me new skills. Like how to balance an umbrella, a leash with a diabolically energetic dog at the far end, a cup of coffee, and a bag of dog poop -- all in a driving rain. This will take some practice if this morning’s performance is any indicator. Mojo’s penchant for diving between my legs as we walk caused me a couple of drops of both umbrella and poop bag. Not a pretty picture. There was no one in the streets, though. No witnesses. There aren’t that many folks here at this stage of the season, and the rain certainly provided no incentive to venture outdoors. Wimps.

The downside of all this? As we returned, and Mojo inhaled his breakfast, he wasted not one moment in finding one of his favorite toys inviting me to chase him to wrest it away from him. It was the least I could do since the little guy was deprived of his normally exhausting expenditure of energy at the beach. And, so we spent our morning. Mojo, head cocked in a playful attempt at gamesmanship, ran laps through the house as I gamely (and futilely) chased him. Maybe I should wear my running shoes when I do this.

We’re going to the beach tomorrow no matter what.