It’s raining cats and dogs here.  But something good happened in the last few months concerning the rain.  Squig has decided that he can go out in the rain to do his business without it killing him.

It was a fight at first.  I had to pick him up and toss him out into the back yard.  He would run back to me and I would toss him out again--until he finally gave up.  Now, I open the back door and out he goes. On his own.

For thirteen years he has been terrified of rain.  Not thunder.  Not lightening.  Just rain.  Now, when he is ready to come back in, I wrap him in a towel and dry him off and he struts around like he is a super hero.

He has conquered his fear.  Or I have forced him to conquer it.  Whichever it is, I don’t dread the rain anymore.  Always before, I knew I was going to have a fight on my hands.  He would shiver until I thought he would faint.

It is the only thing we have ever had a disagreement over.

He is the most wonderful companion.  When I have to go somewhere, I tell him, “I’ll be back in a minute.”  He sits quietly.  But if I just head to the door without saying those words, he comes unglued.  He knows he is going to get to go with me.  It is his favorite thing--going in the car somewhere with me.  If I could clone him, I would make a dozen Squigs.