Whose bright idea was this anyway?
Oh, right. All four of us. Mom wanted to walk, and we got excited when she put on her shoes, and no one (except Olive Badger and she doesn't count because she loves the rain) had bothered to notice that it was raining. Pouring. The old man is snoring.
I was feeling chipper and the rain seemed invigorating, and Mom was feeling like a little bit of rain wasn't going to hurt anyone, so we took off.
Half a block into it, I think we all knew this was going to be a soaking.
Even with cutting our walk to just a mile, it was a long, wet mile. And cold! There is such a difference between walking in the rain in August, and walking in the rain in February. The first three blocks were the best. Rain hadn't soaked into coats or fur, and it was refreshing! After the three blocks, we turned a corner, literally, and I don't know if it was the wind or just the realization that we had committed ourselves to a full mile walk and there was no shortcut home, but the joy of walking in the rain disappeared.
It was more like a death march.
Mom has quirked her eyebrows at me, but it was. She should know. She was the one dragging me through it all. My reward once we got home was pretty sweet, though. Goldfish crackers.
Almost worth a death march just for those cheesy, golden fish!