In case any of you were still up in the air on whether Conan is the most spoiled dog ever, here's some proof. We've been getting rain this weekend, which is not too common on our side of the island. Last night, Conan acted like he needed to go out but balked when he saw that peeing would entail getting wet -- one of his least favorite things. He decided he could hold it for awhile. A couple hours later, he needed to go out so urgently that he actually stepped out into the rain. But then he ran back up to the door! I pushed him back and told him to go potty, and after a few repeats of this procedure he actually made it all the way to the grass! But then he turned around and scurried for the door.
I could tell he really needed to go -- and I was having flashbacks to the time when he was about a year old and didn't want to pee in the rain, so he actually peed in the house, right in front of me -- and I grabbed my umbrella. I actually went out in the pouring rain, getting half-soaked myself, so I could hold an umbrella over my dog while he relieved himself. I felt like a butler or footman in one of those period movies who gets drenched while holding an umbrella over their snobbish, wealthy master, or the queen or somebody. Guess we know who rules this roost!
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