Thursday, August 9, 2018
River Can't Stand the Heat
It’s hot! I spent the first year of my life in Florida, and it’s hotter in Massachusetts. When I was down south, I thought the north was a place where it snowed all the time, and people drank ale to keep warm. Fake news! Massachusetts is terribly cold, then, one day in March, it gets hot, and stays that way until November when it snows four feet. What a miserable place to live. Give me Florida’s unbearable heat and then not too hot winter to Massachusetts’ unbearable heat and then unbelievable cold.
The heat upsets our lives as much as the cold does. When it is hot we can’t go on long walks, or spend time in our buggy overseeing the garden work, which means it is done wrong by our well-meaning but unskilled parents, while Pocket and I run from one enclosed porch door to the other barking “no, no, don’t plant it there, it doesn’t thrive in the sun.”
It is very frustrating. I feel guilty when I get outside and see the suffering plants. “Oh River,” a new flower will whine, “why are you inside while we are being planted. Now I am suffering in this brutal heat, longing for shade, and I am afeared my life shall be a short one.”
I tried to explain that I am a Brachycephalic dog and need to be careful on hot days. Have you ever tried to use a multi-syllable word with a thirsty plant? Flowers, by nature, are selfish and not interested in my breathing issues.
We don’t get full walks when it is hot. When Pocket and I are taken outside it is more like we are being accompanied to the bathroom than getting a walk. We only walk until we poop. Weather people can determine how hot it is by how many steps we take before we poop. If it is less than a hundred steps, it is very hot. If it is more than 1,000 steps, then it is comfortable. I want to hear Jim Cantore say “It is so hot in New England today it only took River Song 20 steps to poop.”
Sometimes, when we can tell it is going to be a hot day during a morning poop, we keep a little in the chute and push it out on our hot late afternoon walk. Our walkers don’t know if it is morning or afternoon poop. We eat the same food for both meals, so it really is the same old s++t.
I promised, during our long, cold, snowy winter, that I would not complain about the heat. I made that vow before I knew this summer would feel like the devil rented the house next door and was operating a blast furnace. Everyone knows my word is my bond, but I am itching (from prickly heat) to complain. The cold winter is looking better. But Mommy reminded me the grass is always greener when it is not covered by a foot of snow.
How I yearn for one sunny 55 degree days Why is it always too hot or too cold. Can’t Mother Nature make it just right?
Sigh. This is River Song reporting from hot, humid, sticky Massachusetts. I will see you in five months when I will be reporting from under a six-foot snow drift.
Oh Florida, how I long for thee.
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