Grandma's world is dirty and muddy and moist, and smells like wet dogs.
It has been raining for a few days and the dogs go in and out the dog door and race through puddles and kiddy pools of paw deep water and soggy grounds. They make a circle from the back garden into the house, up and around on the futon and back out the doggie door. Again and again and again. I sweep the drying dirt, the mud clots, and mop the sliding mud marks on the tiles and change the covers on the futon twice daily. Then, I burst into tears, lock the doggie door and go take a nap. The dogs... Sign in to see full entry.