A wet dog never smells good. It’s not their fault. Rainwater releases the musty odor from bacteria that lives on their skin. The larger the dog, the more alive your nose feels, or maybe it’s just dying a little faster than normal. And Taylor is all dog; he’s all big dog.
So it was, we went on a walk this morning. The storms all day yesterday raged all through the night. For the first time ever, Taylor was noticeably scared, clingy all day and eve, by my side no matter where I went or what I did at our place. A perfect night to curl up on the couch (which works out well since Tay has his own spot on it now) and watch movies; I love a rainy night, apparently way more than my dog.
Being cooped up and scared for that long, he was itching to get out this morning. Depending upon what side of the street we were walking, the weather was markedly different. It was beautiful and sunny and clear to our right as we were walking down the hill. It was beautiful and dark and cloudy to our left, raining. We were closer to our left, and so, was washed by the morning showers.
It made for a surreal walk, sunlight seemingly mere feet away from us, but like water in a desert, unattainable. It was beautiful. While we had moments of respite from the downpour, we were wet.
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Note. Except for the pictures from my balcony, all the other pictures were snapped within 30 seconds to give you an idea of the contrast between the views to my left and right.
Secret of My SucCecil 
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