Weiners

The dogs look reproachfully at us, curl into themselves, and sigh loudly. They haven't peed all day, and they sadly wait for us to let them out the door to the world that is not raining.

Oryx stands outside, her back twitching with every raindrop (like she's being stung by tiny bees), and her little eyes scrunch up against the fearsome drizzle. For the amount of time she's been out there, she could have peed a gallon.

Damn dogs.