Remember how in my last entry I mentioned that I needed a good rainy day or weekend to sort of justify my grouchiness and grumpiness? Then I hit publish thinking that wasn’t going to happen because you don’t get multiple rainy days here in Charleston – you get oppressively hot and bright days where the sun beats down on you and the humidity smothers your entire being then in the evening, you might get a really really good thunderstorm as the weather breaks but it’s always back to the same thing the next morning.
Except that following morning, I was startled awake by the sound of Baxter freaking out and of course, being the mama bear I am when it comes to the fur babies, I shot out of bed and ran through the house looking for him only to find him having a literal shit fit at the patio door because he had been caught in a torrential downpour. This is all fairly uncommon for him as not only has he NOT figured out to bark at the door when he’s ready to come in but he also seemed no where near as affected by thunderstorms and rain as Sammy, who cowers in fear if he hears a storm on TV.
